Promise
by Myra109
Summary: (Benji, 2018) In society, siblings falling in love is seen as wrong, and because of this, siblings in love face discrimination and verbal abuse, not to mention physical violence, and some relationships don't survive the trials of life. Carter and Frankie Hughes are determined to stand strong against the hatred because if there's one thing they know, it's that they love each other.
1. We Love Each Other

_This is a rewritten/edit of my story We Love Each Other. I have left the original as a seperate story._

_The Carter and Frankie story is a prompt from Godzilla183._

_WARNINGS: INCEST, KIDNAPPING, VERY MINOR VIOLENCE_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Two siblings- both young, not even at high school age- lay together, their hands intertwined and tears on their faces. Their father had died only a few weeks ago, and their lives had been filled with more and more changes ever since. Their mother was never home; they lost the few friends they had after kids began to bully them (the children were very vulnerable after the tragic loss); their mother had even sold their father's watch, the only thing they had left of him. No friends. No father. A caring mother working multiple jobs with several hours for each shift. During that time, they had no one. Except for each other.

The siblings had grown closer after their father died, and they actually began to enjoy each other's company. They were best friends until their feelings developed into something more.

The younger sister looked up, and her lips touched her older brother's ever so slightly before they timidly continued the kiss until it became a kiss that wasn't 'supposed' to be shared between siblings, according to society, anyway.

And yet, they didn't care about what they were supposed to do and what they weren't supposed to do. All they cared about was the love they felt for one another, the true love and care growing inside their hearts.

Two separate hearts became one on that day as two siblings fell in love with each other.

They didn't know the trials that life would bring within the next few months. They didn't know they would meet a dog that accepted them for who they were, which can't be said about anyone else. They didn't know they would be in the wrong place at the wrong time and would be kidnapped and held captive. They didn't know the fear, the terror, the trauma that was coming their way.

But they did know that whatever life threw at them, they would get through it together. They loved each other like their parents loved each other. Just because they were siblings didn't change the fact that they feel love just like you and me. They couldn't help falling in love with each other, just like we can't stop ourselves from falling in love with the boy down the street or the girl next door or a random person you met on the bus ride to work one day. They couldn't help falling in love. Their hearts were calling out for each other, and silencing their hearts would hurt them much more than giving in to what their hearts wanted.

Who says young kids can't fall in love, anyway?

* * *

Months had passed since the siblings officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, and the older brother- a young brown haired boy of around twelve years old- was walking out of school, sneaking around the corner with a terrified look in his eyes; he had brown orbs the color of earth, but fear darkened those eyes until they were windows during a blackout. Shadowy and gloomy.

He sighed, thinking he was in the clear, but the minute he stepped into the open, a burly boy with wide eyes and curly hair slammed him against a brick wall, hidden from passerby in the alleyway beside their school, and the few that happened to glance their way quickly turned their eyes to the ground and hurried past without a word or any indication that they had noticed. None of them cared enough to step in.

"We had a plan, Carter," the boy growled, menacingly, spittle flying onto Carter's face, which had paled with the appearance of his bully, and his fingers trembled as he grappled at the boy's hands, which were twisted in Carter's shirt and holding the scrawny boy firmly against the wall, his sneakers barely scuffing the ground.

"The p-plan's still on," Carter stammered, trying to push himself against the wall and get as far away from the bully as possible while also scrambling to find his footing, which proved useless as his feet hardly even touched the ground.

"The plan was for you to get me Bs," the bully said before holding up an assignment with an A written in the top left hand corner. "Does this look like a freaking B?"

"I just want what's best for you," Carter squeaked, trying and failing to not show the fear he felt. He mentally cursed himself for being such a coward.

_No wonder I get picked on,_ he thought, bitterly.

"Do you know when the last time I got an A was?" the boy demanded, afraid the teacher might get suspicious and discover he was bullying someone into doing his homework for him.

"I'm sorry!" Carter exclaimed, desperately, his mouth running a mile a minute. "I'll act more stupid next time. Completely idiotic and moronic. Beyond obtuse," Carter rambled.

"That's what I like to hear," the bully replied, releasing Carter from the pin to the wall, and he turned away as Carter sighed in relief.

The bully paused. "Are you making fun of me?" he realized, turning around slowly as Carter froze at the words, like a skittish rabbit caught in the eyes of a predator or a deer in a headlight.

Had he made fun of the bully? That hadn't been Carter's intention, but thinking back on his fearful rambling, he realized he might have accidentally insulted the bully. Bad move.

"You're dead this time, Carter," the bully snarled, lunging at the smaller boy, and Carter cringed away as the first punch landed, hitting his chest with a spark of pain that soon turned into fire skittering across his skin as more blows landed.

The bully was in the middle of beating up his victim when a high pitched voice sounded from behind him.

"Get away from him!" Carter's younger sister shouted.

The bully turned to see Carter's sister- a small girl a few years younger than Carter with her brown hair in pigtails and her blue eyes filled with protective anger- behind him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"What are you going to do if I don't… little girl?" he mocked, arrogantly. He obviously thought the girl would whimper and shrink away before dashing out of the alley and forgetting what she saw. However, the girl proved him wrong. Incredibly wrong.

"Frankie, get out of here!" Carter shouted, but the younger girl didn't obey. Frankie only glared at the bully; if looks could kill, the bully would've been dead long ago.

Frankie grabbed a metal trashcan lid from a pile of trash that lined the walls of the alley, snatching it up from where it had fallen off the bin into a mound of garbage bags, and she slammed it against the bully's chest. Don't get me wrong; Frankie wasn't usually a violent person, but when someone harmed her boyfriend, all bets were off.

The bully stumbled, shocked by the bold move of this small, nine year old child, and Frankie leaped off the ground, spinning in mid air like a ballerina, but the picturesque moment was ruined (or possibly strengthened, depending on who you asked) when she aimed a kick at the bully's knees, knocking his legs out from under him in something that was a cross between a karate move and a dance move.

Third time's the charm, she thought before delivering one last blow to the bully's ribs, administering a solid kick to the center of the boy's chest, causing him to stumble. The bully, afraid of a little girl that was brave enough to fight a boy twice her size, dashed out of the alley and vanished down the street, limping from the kick she'd sent to his knees.

Frankie held out a hand, which Carter graciously accepted, and Carter was pulled to his feet, wincing as he rolled his shoulders, sore from being shoved against the wall, and he lightly held a hand to the bruises already blooming across his chest and midsection, as if that would somehow decrease the pain.

"You didn't have to do that," Carter told her, but his eyes expressed more gratitude than his words. Frankie knew he didn't mean it as an insult, and she could tell he was truly glad she had shown up when she did (broken bones would undoubtedly be hard to explain to their mom). Frankie could always read him better than anyone else and somehow knew how Carter felt, even when he himself didn't.

"Yes, I did," Frankie disagreed. "You're my brother and my boyfriend. That's two good reasons to protect you. Besides, you would do the same thing for me. You _have_ done the same thing for me."

Carter smiled as she straightened his jacket, running her hands across the fabric that covered the abrasions surely painting the skin beneath his shirt, and while her touch didn't make the pain vanish, it did make Carter feel much better. She stood on her tip toes and pressed a light kiss to his lips before they exited the alley with their hands intertwined.

"Maybe we should tell a teacher about him," Frankie suggested, referring to the bully.

Carter laughed. "There's no need. I don't think he'll be bothering me again for a long time. Thanks for the save."

"You never need to thank me," Frankie said, truthfully, before she giggled, "although it is nice to know you appreciate me."

Carter chuckled. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

They took another few steps before Carter suddenly stopped, and Frankie back pedaled a few steps in bewilderment.

"What is it?" Frankie inquired, curiously.

"Look," Carter whispered, and Frankie followed his gaze to a dog with shaggy, light brown fur and the cutest eyes she had ever seen on a dog before. The animal was sitting in front of their school, those big eyes fixed on them, and his head cocked in wonder, as though he felt the same magnetic pull that the siblings felt.

"Wow," Frankie murmured, and she felt drawn to the dog as she took a hesitant step forward, but a crowd of people passed in front of her, and when the crowd was out of the way, the dog was gone.

Frankie frowned in confusion and disappointment. Where could the dog have gone on the crowded, bustling street they were standing on?

Carter patted Frankie's shoulder and pointed to a vent on the side of the nearest building. She barely saw a hint of movement inside the small space.

"I have grapefruit! I have pineapple! I have strawberry!" an elderly man with a protruding belly announced, sitting in his folding chair a few yards away from the siblings and gesturing to his fruit stand.

"I'll be right back," Carter said as Frankie knelt beside the vent, wishing the dog would come back out, so that she could see those cute, but oddly sad, eyes again.

Carter handed the man a few one dollar bills as he bought a handful of strawberries, and the man grinned.

"Thank you. You have a good day now, and be careful with the cars," the man told the young boy, handing him a small plastic container of the juicy fruit.

Carter smiled in return. "You, too."

Carter returned to his sister's side and rested three strawberries on the ledge leading into the vent.

Frankie and Carter weren't sure how much time passed, but just when they began to give up hope that the dog would venture out of the vent to eat the fruit, a small, black nose appeared, sniffing the sweet, red, delicious fruit before gobbling them up, if a bit tentatively.

Frankie and Carter smiled at each other before continuing on their way, passing Frankie's school and walking down the street.

"You want to go to Sam's?" Carter asked.

Frankie shrugged. "Sure. It's a waste of time, though."

"You never know. Maybe he's in a good mood today," Carter replied, optimistically, but the hope in his eyes was waning slightly.

Frankie laughed. "In your dreams. Are you coming to my recital?"

She didn't notice Carter drop a juicy strawberry on the ground.

Carter nodded. "Of course."

"I'm going to have a solo and do five pirouettes all on my own," Frankie stated, proudly. "I'll dance in New York, and I'll dance in Swan Lake, and I'll become super famous."

"Just don't become all stuck up like so many famous people these days," Carter requested, jokingly but also pleadingly. "I couldn't stand the sadness knowing my girlfriend won't give me the time of day."

Frankie chuckled. "Don't worry. You'll always come first in my book," she promised.

Carter placed a strawberry on a fire hydrant while Frankie climbed into a street car.

"Come on!" she called, looking over her shoulder at him as she ventured deeper into the street car to find a seat.

"Frankie, can't we walk?" he asked, wanting to give the dog a chance to follow them, however unlikely the possibility seemed.

"It'll take us ages to get to Sam's if we walk," she pointed out, "and I'd like to be home before dinner."

Carter sighed and followed her onto the street car. He stared out the window in search of the dog the two of them had met, the one he'd been trying to convince to follow Carter home.

He didn't notice the aforementioned dog jump onto the back of the street car, licking strawberry juice from his snout, his shaggy fur flying in the wind as the street car rumbled through the streets.

* * *

"And someday, I'll get to go to Paris to dance!" Frankie cheered as they got off of the street car.

"Just don't forget about me while you're gone," Carter joked.

"Are you kidding me?" Frankie laughed. "You're coming with me. I don't want to be alone in an unfamiliar city."

The siblings walked into Sam's pawn shop. Sam was a cranky, middle aged man, whom their mother had sold their father's watch to, and they'd been trying to buy it back ever since. Still, Sam may be cranky, but he knew about their relationship and didn't judge them for it, even when almost everyone else did.

"Four dollars and twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight cents," Carter announced as he sat the money on Sam's counter. "So that brings the total to… thirty-four dollars and eighteen… no, nineteen cents. Not bad, am I right?"

Frankie read the expression on Sam's face. "How much more do we have to go?" she asked, not even daring to hope.

Sam barked a laugh. "Oh, you don't even want to know."

"Sam, we've been coming here twice a week for a long time," Carter begged. "At least take the watch out of the For Sale case."

"If I take it out of the case, people can't see it, and if people can't see it, people can't buy it," Sam replied.

"But we're going to buy it," Carter exclaimed. "Eventually," he added a little less confidentially.

"This is a business. Barely, but it is, and I told you if someone likes the watch, I'll tell you, give you the chance to buy it first," Sam offered.

"But we're at, like, thirty-four dollars and nineteen cents," Frankie pleaded, hoping that the amount was close enough to the price of the watch to count for _something._

None of them noticed the shaggy furred dog looking at the kids through the grimy window of the pawn shop.

"Kids, how old do you think I am?"

"Old," Carter answered.

"A hundred," Frankie guessed, making the two males glance at her.

"You're not really helping your case," Sam told her. "Anyway, at this rate, you'll be bringing your money to the cemetery."

"I don't like the cemetery," Frankie sulked, leaning on the counter and resting her head on her arms.

"Look, kids," Sam said. "A guy came in here today. He liked the watch; I told him it ran slow."

"But it doesn't run slow. My father kept it in perfect condition; you know that," Carter rambled.

"The point is, pudding head, he's not wearing it, is he?" Sam responded.

"Oh," Frankie realized with an understanding smile. "Mr. King, of all the people I don't like in this world, I like you the best."

"Yeah," the man muttered. "You and every other woman in my life. Now, you two kids get on out of here."

"You know, we're just going to keep coming back," Frankie reminded him.

"Yeah, like a rash," Sam told her.

"See you tomorrow," Frankie called.

"Take care," Sam replied as the bell dinged when the door shut behind the two kids.

The stray dog with shaggy fur- he was a very smart dog and understood the situation with the watch based off of the conversation- watched through the window as Sam took the watch out of the For Sale case and placed it in the safe, away from the eyes of potential buyers.

* * *

The dog followed Frankie and Carter, passing a suspicious, rust colored van on the way across the street.

"I told you that was a waste of time," Frankie mumbled, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk.

"No, it wasn't," Carter said with hope ringing in his tone. "We added more money, and next time, it will be less money that we have to add."

"Yeah, but… Carter, you're giving him your lunch money. I know you have. We want the watch badly, but you need to eat."

"I eat breakfast and dinner," Carter offered.

"Yeah, but skipping meals can lead to medical problems. Even just skipping one meal a day for a long time can have consequences. I want Dad's watch just as badly as you do, Carter, but I also want you to be healthy," Frankie said, gently, taking his hand and forcing him to stop just outside of their apartment building. He faced her, and she looked deep into his eyes, trying to express as much concern as she could.

Carter sighed, opening the door to the apartment building. "I'll eat lunch tomorrow. Deal?"

"Deal," Frankie agreed as they shut the door behind them.

While Carter and Frankie got settled, the dog with shaggy fur rushed over to the closed door, pawing at it.

_I wish I had thumbs,_ the stray dog thought before going around to the side of the building and pushing a dumpster under the window and making a staircase out of boxes and trashcans and other random stuff sitting in the alley. The dog hopped up the staircase and waited patiently beside the window.

Meanwhile, inside, Carter and Frankie sat at the kitchen table to get a snack, and after making a big bowl of Captain Crunch, they piled the cereal onto their spoons before laughing as they linked their arms, connecting them at the elbows. They ate their own spoon of cereal while their arms were linked before chuckling again as they swallowed.

After finishing their cereal, Frankie leaned forward and kissed Carter on the lips, deepening the kiss until one kiss became a full make out session.

Sparks seemed to fly, and fireworks were exploding behind their eyes. Carter could feel his body relaxing and becoming more energetic at the same time, and Frankie could feel warmth all through her body as she kissed her boyfriend. The feeling was intoxicating, and the two of them parted, breathless.

"Best kiss ever," Carter whispered.

"You say that every time we kiss," Frankie giggled.

Carter shrugged. "Maybe because every kiss I share with you is the best kiss ever."

Frankie laughed before kissing her brother again.

Frankie opened her eyes as she pulled away from Carter, and her eyes widened as they landed on the window; Carter frowned and followed her gaze to see the shaggy furred dog pawing at the window and whining.

"How did you even get up here?" Carter asked as he opened the window and allowed the dog inside.

"How did you find us?" Frankie wondered as they ran their fingers through the dog's fur in amazement.

"That was me, actually," Carter admitted. "I was leaving a trail of strawberries so that he would follow us home."

Frankie nodded. "I knew you were up to something. Is he a stray?"

Carter nodded.

Frankie wrinkled her nose. "A stray that needs a bath," she muttered.

Carter smiled. "Well, that's an easy fix."

* * *

Half an hour later, Frankie found herself brushing the fur of the now clean dog while the dog rested his head on Carter's lap. The two of them were out on the fire escape, not wanting to track water or get any dog fur in the house, lest they risk their mother's anger.

"What are we going to do with him?" Frankie asked. "Mom will never let us keep him. You asked for a bulldog for Christmas, and you got a stuffed animal," she recalled.

"I'll talk to her. For now, he'll stay in our room until I can convince her," Carter answered, but he failed the hide the small amount of fear and defeat in his voice, knowing his mother would tell them to get rid of the dog at the best and yell at them at the worst.

"Where's he going to use the bathroom?" Frankie questioned.

Carter gestured to the ground below. "If he needs to go, we'll take him down the fire escape and into the alley."

Frankie nodded. "But we'll never be able to convince Mom. Especially since she's still upset since we… came out to her about our relationship."

Carter remembered that day all too well…

***FLASHBACK***

_"Mom, we have something to tell you," Carter said, "and we need you to hear us out."_

_The two siblings sat on the couch, side by side, with their mother on the opposite sofa, sitting across from each other like a trial. The question was… who was the one on trial? Their mom or the siblings?_

_Their mother frowned. "Okay?" she asked, suspiciously, knowing that that tone meant nothing good. Hear us out was only used when they wanted something or when they broke something._

_Whitney never could have expected the words that came out of her daughter's mouth._

_Carter intertwined his fingers with Frankie's, and they forced themselves to look their mother in the eye, despite the apprehension that wanted them to hide away. They were not ashamed of their relationship, and if they let anybody, especially the Fear, get into their heads, that shame would cause them to fall apart like paper in water. They could not let that happen to them._

_"We're dating," Frankie said, bluntly._

_Their mother laughed. "Funny joke. Seriously, what's up?"_

_"It's not a joke, Mom," Carter replied in his sincerest tone._

_Their mother went still as she processed their words, and just when Carter began to hope for a hug or simply a look of acceptance, an irritated scowl passed over her face, fire consuming her eyes and turning the sky blue irises to ice._

_"You two are brother and sister! That is so wrong," she growled. "Your father passed away; I'm working multiple jobs. I do not have the time or the energy to deal with this… this… disgusting relationship, and I will not have it under my roof!"_

_"Are you going to kick us out?" Frankie squeaked in fear. She would rather be homeless than be without Carter, but they were only nine and twelve years old. If their mother kicked them out, they didn't know how to take care of themselves._

_"No, but until further notice, Carter, you're sleeping on the couch and Frankie stays in the room. You will not be in the same room at the same time without supervision, and there will be no kissing, no holding hands. I won't even allow you two hugging. If you break any of these rules, one of you will be going to boarding school. This is your one and only warning."_

_She stormed out of the room, leaving her teary eyed children sitting in the living room, their hearts officially breaking as the person who was supposed to love them the most in the world rejected them._

***FLASHBACK OVER***

"I know," Carter sulked, the memory stinging his already battered heart. "Maybe we could-"

A door opened and shut inside the house, and the two of them exchanged panicked glances.

"Oh, no," they said in unison before standing and climbing through their window and into the room. Technically, it was still Frankie's room; Carter continued to sleep on the couch, but their mom had loosened the leash a little by allowing them to walk to and from school together and she trusted them to behave until she got home. She used to make their neighbors watch them until she got home.

"Where are my amazing kids that love to help Mom out?" she called.

That was their mother's way. She treated them like she always did, like that conversation had never happened, but the conversation about their relationship lingered in the air, but their mother wasn't willing to talk about it.

"Hi, Mom!" Carter exclaimed.

"Hi, Mommy!" Frankie cheered. "You're the best mommy of all the mommies in the entire world!"

"Aw," their mother said, clearly not buying it. "What'd you do? It better not have been any of that funny business."

That was what their mother called their relationship and anything to do with it, like kissing. She couldn't bring herself to call it anything else.

"No, Mom," Carter said. "That was just… a phase. It's over."

Carter and Frankie didn't like lying to their mom, but what other choice did they have? They loved their mom, and they loved each other, and the only way they could keep a healthy relationship with their mom and still have a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship with each other was by lying. They weren't really sure if they could call a relationship built on lies healthy, but right now, it was the only possible solution.

"That's what I like to hear," their mother said. "Now, go put these groceries away."

* * *

"Here you go, madam," Whitney Hughes chirped, resting a plate in front of her daughter. "Mushrooms on top."

This was, perhaps, the worst part of the fight with their mom. She went off the handle, practically forbade them from speaking to each other, and she always gave them that look, an expression filled with disappointment and permanent disgust, and despite all of that, she tried to pretend that everything was normal. She still talked to them, was still nice to them, but they could all feel the tension in the air, and sometimes, the siblings wished she would just come out and address everything that had happened in the past few months instead of pretending that everything was at it had been before Carter and Frankie revealed their relationship to her.

"Carter, is all of your homework done?" she continued.

"It will be," Carter promised, keeping his eyes fixed on the tabletop. He could never stand to see that look on his mother's face, the sadness and the anger that was always present in her gaze. Therefore, he settled for not looking at her at all.

"What about you, Mr. Man? Anything interesting happen at school today?" Whitney questioned.

"Not really," Carter answered, nonchalantly. "I aced my science test."

They didn't tell their mom about Frankie defending him from Pig Face. As a rule, neither of them mentioned anything that had to do with each other if it happened outside the walls of their apartment. Carter and Frankie avoiding speaking of each other entirely in front of their mom; they might let something slip, and then, one of them would be shipped off to boarding school, probably Carter. Carter never figured out why, but their mother seemed to blame him, like he'd corrupted Frankie when that was far from the case. Carter was almost convinced their mother hated him, and he had a feeling it wasn't just because of his relationship with Frankie. Carter thought it might be because he looked exactly like his dad, and it hurt for his mother to even look at him.

Carter wouldn't even tell Frankie how much that hurt.

"Fantastic!" their mom exclaimed as she turned back to the counter to prepare him a plate.

At that moment, the dog chose to enter the kitchen, trotting about and nosing around in search of food. Frankie spotted him first and urgently gestured to Carter, who turned to see their new companion sniffing at the floor, following the scent of food. His eyes widened, and he mouthed silently, beckoning the animal towards him in an effort to get him hidden before his mother saw the dog in their apartment.

"What was the test about?" Their mother asked, utterly oblivious to the ongoing situation behind her as the siblings attempted to usher the dog out of the kitchen or at least into a good hiding spot before he was spotted.

"Uh, the ecosystem," Carter responded as Frankie tried to get the dog to exit the kitchen by shooing him out from under the table. "Yeah, food chains and… whatnot," Carter stammered, fumbling for words as he was distracted by the dog pattering into the pantry before eventually settling on a word he had heard but never used himself (Frankie called it an old person word).

Carter could tell their mother was frowning, even with her back turned. "Whatnot?" She repeated. "That's one word I've never heard a kid say."

"Um, I had a vocabulary lesson today," Carter said, which wasn't exactly a lie. He did have a vocabulary lesson. Whatnot just wasn't one of the vocab words. He was grasping at straws, trying to find something to say or do to keep his mom preoccupied so she wouldn't see the dog rummaging around in the pantry before finally emerging with a Honeycombs cereal box on his head. It would've been funny if Carter wasn't so afraid of getting caught.

His mother turned, but thankfully, she wasn't really paying attention as she held his plate out to him.

"Here you go, no mushrooms," she told him.

"Actually, can I have mushrooms?" Carter blurted as the dog stumbled into a cabinet, spilling little bits of cereal across the floor. Hopefully, their mom would assume the kids had made the mess and failed to clean it up, but that hope would be crushed if she noticed the dog.

"You hate mushrooms," their mother said in confusion and suspicion.

"Yeah, well, taste buds change every seven years. That's a scientific fact," Carter babbled, forcing himself not to look at the dog as he turned in circles, trying to get the box off of his head.

"He's right, very right," Frankie agreed.

Their mother shrugged, turning back to the counter. "All right."

She scooped some mushrooms back onto his plate as the dog finally escaped from the box, shaking bits of Honeycombs out of his fur, and their mother turned back to hand the plate to Carter, frowning when she noticed the nervousness in his eyes.

"What's going on with you two?" She demanded in a no nonsense tone of voice. "I want the truth. Now."

She still didn't trust them to tell her the truth about their relationship. Which they weren't telling the truth, so Carter couldn't blame her.

"Mom…" Carter said, tentatively. "We are telling you the truth. We're just acting a little weird because…"

"Pig Face tried to beat him up again," Frankie blurted as the dog finally left the kitchen, leaving the two siblings to sigh in relief.

"That's what it is," their mother sighed, saddened but unfortunately not surprised. "Carter, who is this kid?"

"It doesn't matter, Mom-"

"Yes, it does," their mother replied, firmly, running her hands through her hair in frustration at the fact that her son was being bullied and refused to let her do anything about it.

"I mean," Carter clarified, "it doesn't matter because Frankie hit him with a garbage can lid. Three times. I don't think he'll be bothering me again anytime soon."

Their mother chuckled, eyes lighting up at the information. "Have I ever told you that you two are some of the bravest kids I know?"

Her kids shook their heads.

"Well, you are. I know it's been hard lately. Your dad dying; I'm working two jobs; you're on your own all the time, not to mention how I blew up when you told me."

Carter and Frankie were surprised she was addressing the subject of their relationship at all.

"I love you kids. I don't agree with this relationship, and I don't want it to continue, but that doesn't mean I love you any less. Life is hard right now, but no matter what happens, I want you two to be brave, okay? Can you promise me that?" Their mother questioned.

"I promise, Mom," Carter said.

"Me, too," Frankie agreed.

Their mom nodded, a small smile on her lips. The disgust still showed in her eyes a little, but a little bit of pride could be seen as well. "Thank you."

Little did any of them know, Carter and Frankie would need to be brave, braver than they had ever needed to be before, very soon.

* * *

"Why don't we name him Michael Jordan?" Carter questioned as the dog sat between him and his sister on her bed. Carter would be on the couch when his mother went to bed before sneaking into his sister's room for the night. He'd wake up early and return to the couch before their mom woke up; it was the same thing every night. It was a rather tiresome (and pointless, in his eyes, since he could just stay in Frankie's room like they used to do before their mother found out, but their mother wouldn't have that), but it was worth it to see Frankie smile and to feel the warmth that found its way into his veins when they were near each other.

Sometimes, Carter wondered if this was what it felt like to be truly in love, but every time he looked into Frankie's eyes, he realized that he didn't have to wonder. When you find true love, you know it, and he had could name the exact year, the exact day, the exact _minute_ he realized he was in love with Frankie. Occassionally, he couldn't help but wonder if this was what love felt like for everyone, if this was what Frankie felt when she looked at him, but wondering was not doubt. No even close.

Frankie's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"He doesn't look like a Michael," Frankie disagreed with a shake of her head as she raked her fingers through the dog's fur, now smooth and free of tangles after the bath they'd given him earlier.

Carter shrugged. He couldn't argue there.

"What about… Cornipicous?" Carter suggested, reading a name from his Fun Facts book, which was spread open on his lap. It had facts on all topics from sports to history, and it was a great place to find names since it probably had every name you could think of and more. So far, though, they were striking out. Nothing seemed to fit.

Frankie shook her head. "Too hard to pronounce."

He couldn't argue with that either. He had read the book front to back multiple times (it was his favorite), and even he still stumbled over the name a little.

"Hey, look," Carter said, pointing at the book in front of him. "Benjamin Franklin had a dog. He thought they were more reliable than people."

"That is definitely true," Frankie agreed. "You and this dog are the most reliable things in my life."

"You're very reliable yourself," Carter laughed. "How about we name him Benjamin?"

"How about Benji?" Frankie offered.

"I like it," Carter said. "He's old and new at the same time."

Carter's eyes landed on a picture sitting on Frankie's nightstand. Their family was sitting with Santa Clause, a seven year old Frankie sitting on the jolly man's lap while Carter stood behind her, hands on her shoulders to keep her balanced (he vaguely realized that maybe the exact year, exact day, and exact minute he realized he was in love with Frankie might not have been the moment he truly fell in love with her. Just the minute he realized it. Even in the photo, he could see the smile of pure happiness on his face when he looked at Frankie, and Frankie's hand had rested on top of his when he placed it on her shoulder). Their parents stood on either side of Santa Clause. Their dad was smiling and wearing a Santa's hat.

"Dad would've let us keep Benji," Frankie whispered, following his gaze to the picture that displayed their family before it had fallen apart. When their dad was still alive, and their mother could still look at them without disgust and disappointment in her eyes, as if they had fallen in love to deliberately make her life harder. "Carter, I don't want to say goodbye to Benji. I don't like goodbye. Please promise me we won't have to," she begged, tears welling up in her eyes

"I promise," Carter agreed, and he intended to keep that promise as he kissed his sister, gently.

* * *

"As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord this dog to keep. And that I'll do amazing at my ballet recital. And that my spelling teacher will quit her job forever and never come back. And that Mommy won't have to worry so much. And that I'll never have to eat mushrooms again for as long as I live," Frankie prayed as she knelt beside her bed with Carter at her side.

"I pray that Mom will accept our relationship and realize that we love each other and that we can't help who we fall in love with. I know God accepts us for who we are and loves us unconditionally, so why can't Mom do the same?" Carter prayed. "Thank you."

"Amen," they said in unison before crawling into Frankie's bed on the top bunk and drifting off to sleep after muttering a quick goodnight to each other and to Benji.

* * *

The sun had barely risen, and even if it were higher in the sky, the beams of sunlight would surely be lost in the gray clouds, which poured rain from above, pattering against the windows and tempting her to go back to sleep, but she couldn't. She had to put food on the table, after all.

"Just a quick kiss before I go to work," their mother muttered as she snuck around the couch to give Carter a kiss.

She frowned when she saw that Carter wasn't there.

Anger already mounting in her chest, she walked into Frankie's room, ready to give them the scolding of a lifetime for disobeying her. She didn't want to send him to boarding school, but she would if there was no other option, and she couldn't believe they had… her thoughts trailed off.

Inside Frankie's room, she found Carter and Frankie sleeping in Frankie's bed, along with a…

"BARK!" Benji yapped in greeting.

"Carter! Frankie!" she yelled, her voice bouncing off the walls as her children jolted awake, sitting up in a flurry of covers and bedhead.

"Good morning, Mom," Carter mumbled, still half asleep.

"Why are you two in the same bed? And what is that?" their mother demanded, pointing at Benji.

That woke her children up real quick as they realized that this was definitely not a dream. Frankie appeared to be frozen in place, and Carter looked between her and the dog, rapidly trying to think of an excuse.

"A stuffed animal. One that makes noises!" Carter blurted, ignoring her first question, entirely.

"I'm on to you two," their mother said. "This is why you were acting so weird. Not only are you sneaking around behind my back, but you also have a dog. Where did he even come from?"

"The street," Frankie answered, quietly, seeing no point in lying. "We saved him."

"The street," Whitney muttered. "No. I am barely keeping the three of us afloat. I cannot handle one more thing! I'm taking him to a shelter, and Carter is going to boarding school until you realize that this relationship is wrong."

"A shelter?" Frankie cried. "They murder-kill dogs there."

"They do not," Whitney stated, which was both the truth and a lie. Some dogs had to be put down, but this dog was young and reasonably cute, if a little unkempt, so surely, he would find a new home soon.

"And boarding school?" Carter demanded, fear and rage boiling together in his mind as both emotions colored his voice. "You're sending me away!"

"I won't let them hurt it," Whitney said to Frankie, ignoring Carter's exclamation. She felt guilty enough, but this had to be done. Brothers and sisters (or any relatives, for that matter) weren't meant to be in a relationship. Why couldn't they see that?

As much as it hurt her, this had to be done. It was for their own good. They probably saw her as bitter Capulet (and Montague, she supposed) while they felt like Romeo and Juliet, and we all know how it turned out for those star crossed lovers!

"He's not an it," Frankie said. "He's Benji. And if you send Carter away, you lose me, too."

"You named the dog?" their mother sighed, not sure how to respond to the last part of that sentence. "It doesn't matter. This is my final decision."

"You know what?" Carter yelled. "I'm sorry, okay? For everything. I'm sorry you can't handle one more thing right now. I'm sorry you have to work so much. I'm sorry that I look so much like Dad that you can't even look at me!"

"Carter, that isn't-"

"No. You deny everything. Not this time. I'm sorry that you can't accept something that's different. But I'm not sorry that I fell in love with my sister. When you weren't there for me, she was! And when you weren't there for her, I was right by her side, but it doesn't seem to matter to you that we have no one except for each other right now. Dad's gone. You don't even seem to care about us after we told you about our relationship. We only have each other. And now, you're taking that away from us, too. I'm sorry you've forgotten what love is, but I'm not sorry I fell in love with Frankie," Carter said before picking up Benji and storming out of the room.

"Carter!" their mother called after him.

"Mommy?" Frankie whispered. "Do you even love Carter anymore? Do you love _me?_"

"Of course I do," their mother responded.

"Then show it," Frankie said, turning her back and approaching the ladder to her bed. "You know," she added over her shoulder. "He's not wrong. Dad would've accepted us, and you know it. You really have forgotten what love is."

She returned to her bed without so much as a final glance, and Whitney could hear her crying from the top bunk.

Whitney sighed. She didn't know what to do anymore. She couldn't bring herself to accept this relationship, but she knew if she kept Frankie and Carter apart, she'd lose both of them.

She wished her husband was still here.

* * *

The heavy back door shut behind Carter as he stepped into the pouring rain and set Benji down on the ground.

"Mom won't let us keep you. She'll send you to the pound," Carter murmured. "Go."

Benji didn't move.

"Go, Benji! At least you'll be free. I can't even think of letting you get locked up in a pound. Please… just go."

Carter knelt down, and Benji licked his face while Carter cried.

"I love you, Benji," he mumbled. "You're the only one that understood."

Benji barked before slowly walking away, glancing back at his owner (even if he was being forced to give the dog up) one last time before disappearing down the street.

Carter walked back inside, sat on the steps, and cried. At some point, Frankie joined him, and they cried for everything they had lost. Their dad, the watch, a good relationship with their mom, their dog, and now, they were being pulled apart because they weren't 'supposed' to be together. Like Romeo and Juliet, and we all know how that story ended.

* * *

"You told me you would eat lunch today!" Frankie exclaimed as they headed towards the pawn shop later that day.

Frankie was wearing a simple blue and white striped shirt with a dark blue long sleeved shirt under it, dotted with small sparkles, and her black necklace with the single bead rested against her chest. Carter wore a blue shirt with a sky blue color for most of the shirt and a darker shade of blue for the sleeves.

"I did," Carter responded, truthfully, his eyes straight ahead and not meeting Frankie's.

"Then how come you have more money for Mr. King?" Frankie questioned, puzzled, as she swung their intertwined hands a little between them.

"I don't," Carter responded, cryptically, trying to dodge his girlfriend's questions.

"Then why are we going to see him?" Frankie asked, curiously.

"To get our money back," Carter told her, finally giving up on deflecting the subject and simply telling her the truth.

"But… if we get our money back, how are we going to get Dad's watch?" Frankie said, not understanding. Not _wanting_ to understand.

"Mom doesn't care about us. She wouldn't let us keep Benji; she's trying to keep us apart; she's sending me away. Why should I care about giving her the watch back?" Carter demanded, on the verge of tears.

Frankie didn't respond.

"Mr. King," Carter said as they walked inside the Pawn shop. "We need to talk."

"You kids, I sold the watch!" Mr. King yelled, talking to a man with his back facing the kids, and he sounded… afraid, but Frankie and Carter didn't pick up on the apprehension in his tone.

"What?" Frankie squawked. "You told us you would give us the chance to buy it first!"

"I know. I'm sorry, but I sold it. Go home!" Mr. King urged, eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

"I'm going to call the police and tell them you're a lying liar!" Frankie yelled, but before she could continue, the other man turned to face them, revealing a cream colored Halloween mask covering his face.

"Frankie," Carter whispered, but before he could tell her to run, the man slammed them into the wall, preventing them from escaping.

"I remember being a kid," the man stated. "I used to tell my brother over there I was going to beat him with a baseball bat," he told them, jerking his head towards another masked man. "But I never did. So when you say you're going to call the police, that's just you being a kid, right?

Carter could feel Frankie trembling beside him as she answered, "Y-Yeah. Just talking."

He clutched her hand tighter, feeling himself shaking as well.

"I thought so," the man replied. "Now, Mr. Pawn Man, empty the safe."

"I won't do anything until you let the kids go!" Mr. King shouted, probably sounding braver than he felt.

_For someone who acts like he hates us, he's definitely willing to protect us,_ Carter thought, calmly, before he flinched as the masked man's hands dug deeper into his shoulder blades. _Not the time, Carter,_ he scolded himself as he forced himself to focus on the situation through the cloud of terror descending over his mind.

"Mr. Pawn Man, put yourself in the shoes of two guys who would walk in here wearing these ridiculous masks. Do you think I'm playing with you?" the man growled, jerking Carter and Frankie, painfully. Frankie yelped, and Carter held her hand even tighter if that was possible.

Mr. King nodded and began frantically emptying the safe. "I'll do anything you want. Just don't hurt them kids."

Mr. King handed the first criminal- the one holding Carter and Frankie- a sack of cash and a few other valuables before stepping back, waiting for him to release the kids.

"Back door," the man ordered, shoving the children down the hall. "Go!"

"Where are you taking them kids?" Sam demanded as the man pushed the siblings down the hall and out the door, calling over his shoulder and commanding for his brother to tie Mr. King up.

The masked man shoved the siblings to the ground in the alleyway beside the Pawn Shop, the masked man looming over the frightened kids as he rifled through Carter's backpack and held up his ID card.

"You're gonna sit here and stay quiet for ten minutes and then forget any of this ever happened, or we're going to pay a visit to your home sweet home. Okay?"

Carter nodded, not even fooling himself into believing the man wouldn't do it, and the man attempted to restrain the kids with a rope, not trusting the two kids to follow the orders he'd given them, but Frankie screamed and began to fight against him.

"Let us go!" she shrieked, hitting his face and chest.

"Frankie, stop!" Carter pleaded, but it was too late. Frankie pulled off the man's mask to reveal his face.

He was a tall, thin man with sickly pale skin, marred by dirt, and blonde hair that looked like a scarecrow's. His eyes were blue and cruel. Overall, he just looked mean.

"Don't hurt her," Carter begged, feebly. "Please."

The man ignored him and dragged them to their feet before tugging them in the direction of a rust colored van and shoving them inside.

"Mister, please!" Carter yelled. "Take me, but leave her here. She's just a kid; she won't say anything."

"No, Carter!" Frankie sobbed. She wouldn't allow her brother to put himself in danger, and (selfishly, she might add) she didn't want to be alone. Whether they escaped or were taken, they did it together.

The man actually seemed to consider it, but he decided against it. The girl was unlikely to say anything if they had her brother and could hurt him at any time, but he couldn't take any chances.

"What are you doing?" his brother cried out as he appeared at Scarecrow's side.

"They saw my face," Scarecrow explained.

"They're kids," the brother pointed out.

Scarecrow yanked his brother's mask off to reveal an ugly man with stringy brown hair.

"And now those kids have seen your face, too. Get in the car."

Ugly hesitated for a moment before hopping into the back of the van with Carter and Frankie.

"Help!" Frankie screamed as the men started the car.

None of them noticed Benji, looking at the ground in sadness and loneliness, round the corner of the alley. His ears perked up at Frankie's yell, clearly recognizing her voice and the fear in her tone.

Carter clung to Frankie like a lifeline, hugging her tightly as they huddled against the wall of the van.

"Carter," Frankie whimpered.

"It's okay, Frankie. I'll protect you, I promise," Carter murmured, but he was a little worried that he wouldn't be able to keep that promise.

The brother watched them, wishing his older brother cared about him half as much as Carter cared about Frankie. The van started and peeled out of the alleyway and into traffic with the siblings still holding each other in the back of the vehicle, tears streaming down Frankie's face and Carter shaking like a leaf as the Pawn Shop got farther and farther away.

"Frankie," Carter suddenly muttered. "Look."

Frankie followed his gaze, and her eyes widened when she saw Benji chasing down the car with as much speed as the small dog could manage.

"Dang it!" Scarecrow snarled, having seen the dog as well through the rearview window. "Is that your dog?"

"Stop!" Ugly begged. "This is kidnapping!"

"It's more like saving our butts," Scarecrow replied as he drove faster.

"Stop!" Ugly repeated. "They're kids."

"We can't stop!"

"Yes, we can!"

A shrill ring sounded from Carter's backpack, causing everyone to freeze as the ringtone pierced the air.

"Get the phone!" Scarecrow yelled, spinning wildly around a sharp corner, and Ugly dumped everything out of the bag in search of the phone.

"Mommy!" Frankie shouted upon seeing the Caller ID with the word Mom across the top and a picture of Whitney Hughes plastered below it.

"Throw it out the window," Scarecrow ordered, and Ugly chucked it out of a small hole in the window beside Carter.

Some kind of parade appeared behind them, obstructing Carter's vision and blocking the view of the dog, and when the criminals rounded the corner, Benji didn't follow.

"He's gone," Carter mumbled, hopelessness beginning to set in.

Frankie whimpered, and Carter pressed a kiss to her forehead as he held her, and his eyes landed on a bag of strawberries that had fallen out of his backpack.

A plan began to form in his mind.

"Syd, this isn't a good idea!" Ugly pointed out.

"What else are we going to do? Let them go to the police and tell them who we are?" Scarecrow demanded, sarcastically.

Carter dropped a strawberry out the window. He was going to drop another one when Ugly turned towards them.

"Why are you so ugly?" Frankie asked in order to distract him.

"Want to say that again?" Ugly snarled as Carter dropped another strawberry out the window.

Carter and Frankie yelped as Syd drove the van straight through a metal gate without pausing.

Carter dropped another strawberry, but this time, Syd saw him.

"What are you doing back there?" Syd snarled.

"It's just my lunch," Carter lied.

"Don't take your eyes off of them," Syd told Ugly.

They drove up to a huge, abandoned warehouse that looked like it'd been yanked straight out of a horror movie with vines growing over the walls and overgrown grass and faded paint. Overall, it just looked very creepy.

Carter and Frankie were shoved inside of the building by Syd.

"Don't hurt her," Carter pleaded, holding Frankie close to him.

"I won't hurt either of you if you don't give me a reason to," Syd said. "Tie them up in the back room. Put a tarp over the van," he ordered his brother.

"Why did you pick this place? It gives me the creeps," Ugly muttered. At least, Carter and Frankie weren't the only ones who thought it was creepy.

"Exactly. No one will come snooping around in a creepy building in the middle of nowhere," Syd replied.

Carter felt any hope he had that someone would find them go up in smoke when Syd said that.

* * *

Meanwhile, far away from the warehouse, Whitney closed the doors to the ambulance, holding her phone to her ear.

"Look, guys, I'm sorry about this morning. I'm not going to send you away, Carter. I'm not going to send either of you away. We need to talk about everything, and this time, I promise I will try to listen instead of blowing up at you right off the bat like I have been. I know you two are still mad at me, but you need to tell me where you are. Call me. I love you guys, even if you have a hard time believing it sometimes."

Whitney ended her message and sighed, leaning against the ambulance.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

* * *

A short while later, Carter and Frankie were tied to a support beam with ropes around their wrists and their midsection to keep them from escaping. Syd was standing in front of a table nearby with the stolen goods from the Pawn Shop laid out in front of him, his eyes scanning over the objects greedily.

"She's cold," Carter said as Frankie shivered beside him. Her pinky was hooked with his (it was the closest they could get to holding hands in this position), and even that was ice cold.

"So?" Syd asked, not even turning around to look at them.

"Can you give her a blanket?" Carter asked.

"Why would we waste a blanket on you two brats?" Syd questioned.

"Then give her my jacket," Carter told him.

Syd ignored Carter's request while his brother asked a question.

"What are we going to do?" Ugly asked, nervously.

"We sell this merchandise and pay back the debts we owe," Syd said. He knew that wasn't what Ugly meant, but he seemed to want Ugly to drop the subject.

_I can't blame him_, Carter snarked inside his head. _If **I** stole two kids, I wouldn't want people to bring it up either._

"I mean, with them?" Ugly gestured to the kids. "I didn't sign up for no kidnapping."

"Look, we owe people money, but we don't have no money, so they're going to break every bone in our body instead. Did you sign up for that?" Syd asked.

"I don't owe anything. That's all you," Ugly said, hesitantly.

"Listen here, big brother, who took care of you for seven years? Clothes, food? I found a way for us to stay on when our own parents wouldn't. What I owe, you owe."

_That's a horrible excuse, _Carter thought. _I would never do that to Frankie, but then again, I would never get myself into a situation like that in the first place. Siblings are supposed to take care of each other, and they certainly aren't supposed to make the innocent sibling pay for each other's mistakes, at least to this extent. Blaming a sibling for breaking a window is one thing; roping them into kidnapping two kids is another._

Syd was still talking. "We keep the kids around until we need a get out of jail free card."

"And then?" his brother asked, swallowing harshly. He knew the answer, but he didn't _want_ to know it.

"Then we don't need them no more," Syd said, simply, as if saying he wanted Chinese instead of Mexican for dinner.

Syd sifted through the merchandise on the table while Carter and Frankie watched, and he picked up their father's watch.

"I think I like this here watch," Syd said, walking over to the kids, as he flipped it over to look at the engraved words on the back. "To the love of my life, I love you more than the moon and the stars. Love, W. That's nice. You know, this reminds me of a watch my daddy had once."

"Give it back," Frankie begged, straining against the ropes tying her and Carter to the support beam.

"Oh," the man said. "Is this why you were in the shop today? Let me guess: your old man ran off. Your mother sold the watch. Good riddance, but you want something to remember him by."

Syd knelt in front of Carter, holding the watch out in front of him.

"Try to take it from me. Go on. Take it. Take it."

Carter didn't make any move to do so as a tear trickled down his face.

"You're a little coward, aren't you?" Syd chuckled.

"I don't want the watch," Carter said, flatly. "I want you to let Frankie go."

Syd snorted. "Not gonna happen, kid."

"We can make a deal," Carter offered. "You let Frankie go and keep me."

"Carter, no-"

Carter interrupted Frankie as he said, "I'll do whatever you want. Think about it: I'm assuming you owe these people a lot of money. So much that I doubt that stuff will pay off half of your debts. People would pay a lot for kids. You could hold me for ransom, or if you don't want to take that chance, you can sell me to some criminal on the street for good money. I won't fight. I won't try to escape. As long as I'm missing, Frankie won't say anything; she won't risk my safety like that. Let Frankie go, and we have a deal."

Syd sat in the silence. The deal was tempting…

Syd sighed. "As much as I'd love to take you up on that deal, I can't take that chance."

Syd stormed off, and Frankie turned to Carter, salt water shining in her eyes.

"Carter, don't give yourself up for me," she whispered.

"I love you, Frankie," Carter murmured, "and I will not rest until you're home safe, even if it means staying behind. Nothing you say will change that because I know you would do the same for me."

Frankie didn't reply because she knew Carter was telling the truth.

Ugly tossed a blanket at Frankie, and Carter nodded at him in thanks before helping to straighten out the blanket over his freezing sister.

A loud bark sounded, making all of their gazes jump to the window.

"Come on! Sic him, boy!" Syd called, rushing over to look out the window where the bark sounded from.

"We all right?" Ugly asked.

"You, too, dumbo!" Syd ordered. "Go!'

"Benji," Carter realized.

"Benji," Frankie agreed with a small smile. Maybe they could escape- both of them- after all.

Syd and Ugly left the warehouse in search of the intelligent, determined dog that loved Carter and Frankie enough to save them, leaving the kids alone.

"Do you think they'll catch him?" Frankie murmured, fearfully.

"Benji's smart," Carter said. "He won't get caught."

Carter wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure: Frankie or himself.

Seconds turned into minutes before Benji appeared in the doorway and sprinted over to Carter and Frankie.

"Benji!" Frankie cried in excitement.

"Come on, boy!" Carter begged as Benji chewed on the ropes.

The ropes stood strong. Benji would never break them in time.

"It's stuck! He can't get it," Frankie realized.

"Where is he?" Syd yelled as he reentered the warehouse.

Benji burrowed under the blanket covering Carter and Frankie and stayed as silent as possible.

"I think Rottie smells him," Syd sing-songed.

The guard dog stopped in front of Carter and Frankie and stared at the blanket while Carter and Frankie tried to act as casual as possible.

Syd yanked the blanket aside to reveal the dog sitting beside Frankie, and Benji leaped over his owners and ran while Rottie chased him.

"Don't hurt him!" Carter screamed. "Run, Benji! Run!"

Benji leaped out of an open window, kicking it shut with his hind legs. Syd tugged on the window frame, but it was stuck; the criminal yelled in frustration and kicked a box on the floor while Benji ran and ran and didn't stopping running until he was out of sight.

"He got away," Carter sighed in relief.

Frankie felt tears fill her eyes. "Yeah, but we didn't…"

Carter's heart dropped.

Syd growled before storming over and beginning to gather the merchandise.

"What are you doing?" Ugly asked.

"That dog is too smart," Syd muttered. "He's probably gone to get help or to lead police here or something."

"You think a little dog can do any of that?" Ugly questioned in disbelief.

"He tricked us," Syd pointed out.

"Yeah, but they're not too smart to begin with," Carter murmured to Frankie, who giggled.

"What are you two laughing at?" Syd demanded.

"Nothing," Carter said, quickly.

Syd sighed. They had bigger problems to worry about than what the kids were laughing at, so even though he knew the boy was lying, he ignored them and turned to Ugly.

"Titus, go hide the van in the woods," Syd said, throwing him the keys.

Ugly, now known as Titus, disappeared out the door, and Syd ripped two square pieces of duct tape off of a roll of the sticky stuff and slapped them over Frankie and Carter's mouths. Then, he untied them from the pillar before retying the ropes around their hands.

"Just until we get away from here," Syd promised before yanking the kids to their feet and grunting as he lifted a square piece of wood off of the ground, using a rope tied to a banister to lift it easier. With the wood lifted off of the ground, Carter and Frankie could see steps leading down into a dark basement.

"Go," Syd ordered.

Carter reached his tied hands over to Frankie and wrapped his fingers around her's as best he could before they slowly walked down the steps.

The basement was dusty and smelled like no one had been down here in ages. It was pitch black, so Carter couldn't make out anything, although he spotted some dark shapes in the room. It was probably boxes or tools or something, but it still unnerved him not knowing what it was.

A rat squeaked somewhere to their left, and Frankie cried out, although her yelp was muffled by the duct tape.

Titus joined them shortly after, shutting the trap door behind him.

The two criminals and their captives knelt on the floor, and Syd kept a firm grip on Carter's arm while Titus clamped a hand on Frankie's shoulder, although he was much gentler than Syd. Rottie, having followed Syd, glared at them, and even in the darkness, Carter could feel the dog's cruel eyes on them.

Frankie rested her head on Carter's shoulder, and it wasn't long before they heard voices.

Frankie and Carter recognized Benji's bark and one of the voices, immediately.

Their mother.

Carter wanted to scream _we're here! We're here! Please! Find us!_ But the duct tape prevented him from doing so.

Carter's hand bumped into something in Syd's pocket, and with a curious frown, he reached inside of the pocket and felt something square with a glass screen and a rubber back in his hand.

A phone.

Carter snuck the phone out of Syd's pocket and into his own just as the voices vanished upstairs.

No.

The four of them and the guard dog waited several minutes after the voices were gone before Syd dragged Carter and Frankie to their feet and shined a flashlight at a strange hole in the wall that led into a tunnel.

"Let's go," Syd said, leading them into the tunnel.

Carter elbowed Frankie, lightly, and nodded towards his pocket. Frankie saw the shape of a phone in his jeans pocket and smiled, although no one could see with the duct tape on.

It was a long shot, but it might also be their ticket out of this nightmare.

* * *

After about half an hour, Syd stopped and ripped the duct tape off of their mouths and untied their hands.

"What time is it?" Syd wondered, reaching for his pocket.

Cold panic struck Carter, and his hand latched onto Frankie's.

"Where's my phone?" Syd demanded before his eyes landed on the kids, and he yanked Carter towards him and withdrew the phone from Carter's pocket. "You took my phone!"

"I'm sorry!" Carter squeaked.

Syd raised his hand to strike Carter.

"Leave him alone!" Frankie yelled before jumping onto Syd's back. He shrugged the small girl off, easily, and she was flung into a wall.

"Frankie!" Carter cried before Syd back handed him across the face so hard, Carter fell to the ground.

"Syd, stop!" Titus ordered, and surprisingly, Syd listened.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Syd muttered. "I'm not playing around here, and I won't be lenient or gentle just because you're kids."

Carter crawled towards Frankie, giving Syd a wide berth, and after checking Frankie over for injuries, they huddled together, shuddering in the dark, cold tunnel.

"We'll sleep here for the night," Syd said. "I'll take first watch over the kids."

The four of them lay on the tunnel floor, and Titus fell asleep easy, but Carter and Frankie stayed awake.

"I want to go home," Frankie whimpered in Carter's ear.

"We'll get home," Carter whispered into Frankie's hair. "Somehow."

Carter kissed Frankie on the lips, and it was obvious the kiss was much more than one most siblings would share.

Syd grunted in disgust. "You two are dating? Of course we got the gross freaks."

"We're not freaks," Carter murmured.

Syd acted like he was going to lunge at Carter, making the kids jump, and Syd laughed.

"Pathetic, cowardly freaks," he muttered before spitting on Carter and returning his gaze to the wall.

It was Titus's turn to take watch, but he wound up falling asleep not even five minutes after Syd.

Carter nodded at Frankie, and they crept back the way they came. As soon as they were out of ear shot, they sprinted back towards the basement, their feet pounding against the earth.

The tunnel was long, and it took them almost half an hour to reach the hole in the wall, and that was running.

Carter and Frankie crawled through the hole in the wall, and Carter threw the wooden trap door open, and him and Frankie were off. Part of Carter hoped Benji was still there, but he knew it was a false hope. It'd been hours since the voices and the barking of their dog had disappeared.

Carter and Frankie ran until their feet hurt, and they had a stitch in their side, and the main road came into view, but this late at night, there were no cars. However, if they could just reach the main road, they could follow it back to town, and-

They never reached the main road.

Hands wrapped around them, lifting them off of the ground.

"Got you!" Syd yelled.

Carter and Frankie prepared themselves to be hit or even beaten, but the moment never came. Syd simply walked them back to the warehouse and through the tunnel to where they met Titus.

"I still can't believe you let them escape," Syd muttered.

"I still can't believe you kidnapped them," Titus fired back.

Syd smacked him on the back of the head. "Don't talk back to me. I'm saving our butts here, and you're practically _trying_ to get us arrested."

Syd slammed the two kids into the wall, and Carter and Frankie turned their faces away, shutting their eyes tightly, as Syd raised his flashlight.

They both jumped at the loud smack, and they turned their heads to see that Syd had hit a spot on the dirt wall directly between their skulls, missing them by millimeters.

Syd pointed the flashlight at them.

"That was a warning shot," he whispered, his voice dangerously quiet. "The next one won't be."

Not wanting to risk the kids escaping again, Syd continued their journey through the tunnels immediately while the kids shook and clenched each other's hand, unable to forget Syd's threat as the kidnapped children continued through the tunnels without a fight.

* * *

"Go! Get on! What did I just tell you, boy? Get a move on!" Syd shouted as he shoved Frankie and Carter through the tunnel. "Come on, Titus."

Titus didn't budge from his spot at the hole in the wall (the tunnels were connected by holes dug in the walls, so people could crawl through them).

"What are we doing, man?" Titus asked.

"I know a guy," Syd replied. "He's going to buy our loot and take us up river."

"I mean, with them?" Titus clarified, gesturing to the kids.

"They're coming with us. Come on," Syd told his brother before turning and yelling, "What are you two doing?"

Carter and Frankie yelped, falling backwards onto the dirt as Syd smiled bitterly upon seeing their handprints in the dust and dirt of the tunnels.

"Well, aren't we clever?" Syd muttered as the dog barked and tried to lunge at them, but Syd held onto the leash.

The dog leaped at Frankie, and with strength Carter didn't even know he had, he kicked the dog in the chest and watched it topple backwards with a whimper.

"Do what you want to me, but don't touch my sister," Carter growled to both the guard dog and the two criminals.

"I'll admit, you got guts, kid," Syd mumbled, "but don't even try to overpower me because I only need one of you as my insurance policy, and if you want to keep that sister of yours, I suggest you obey me."

Carter swallowed and didn't reply.

"That's what I thought," Syd muttered before they continued through the tunnel.

* * *

Frankie whimpered in pain as Syd tightened the ropes around her wrists.

"Make sure they stay here, Rottie," Syd ordered the dog before stepping out of the shed he'd left the kids in with a vicious guard dog.

After exiting the tunnels, Carter and Frankie were taken to a boat yard and tied up in a shed. Syd and Titus left them in the shed, but they couldn't have escaped anyway because Rottie was guarding the only decent exit (the door, I mean. There was a window, but even Frankie wouldn't be able to fit through it).

"Carter… I'm scared," Frankie confessed. "Really scared."

Carter nodded. "Me, too. But I'm going to keep you safe. You can count on me, Frankie."

Frankie nodded, and some of the fear faded from her eyes as she bowed her head in prayer.

"Please, God," she whispered. "Please help us to get back home."

Carter watched Frankie before saying a silent prayer of his own.

_Heavenly Father, if you're there… do what you will with my life. Leave me with these kidnappers; our captors can beat me until I'm in critical condition in a hospital. Take me out of this world if you want. Just please… get Frankie home safely. Please. Amen._

* * *

The two of them weren't sure how much time passed before Titus reappeared, frowning when he noticed Rottie had disappeared (when Rottie had barked and began chasing something, Carter and Frankie had had hope… but no one came to their rescue. Whatever Rottie was chasing didn't save them), and he led the two kids towards the boat.

Carter and Frankie were taken to the top of the boat where the captain- a mean man that had a permanent scowl on his face- was preparing to set off.

"You're not your brother," Frankie tried, staring at Titus. She knew there was a good man deep down inside of him, and maybe, if she could find that goodness-even just a small amount of it- he would let them go.

"My brother thinks I'm stupid," Titus said, fiddling with the envelope full of money the captain had given him. "But I can make decisions for myself."

Frankie nodded, a spark of hope igniting inside her, only to be diminished by Titus's next words.

"That's why I'm taking this money all for myself and bailing," Titus told her.

A familiar bark sounded from outside, and Carter's head whipped towards the sound as his eyes widened.

"Benji!" he screamed.

His sister and his captor followed his gaze to see Benji the dog darting across the earth towards the boat.

The captain cursed and started the boat, beginning to edge away from the dock, but the rope was still tied to the dock, and as it was pulled taut, the boat shook, causing all four of them to harshly collide with the ground.

Titus darted down the steps to untie the rope and shake Benji off of them before he made it to the boat. The captain raced outside, yelling at Titus to cut the rope, while Carter grunted and climbed to his feet, grabbing the heaviest thing he could find and facing away from the captain.

"Let us go," Carter commanded as the captain appeared behind him.

The captain grabbed the back of Carter's neck in a bruising grip. "Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it, little man?"

Carter whirled around and smacked the fire extinguisher over the captain's head before him and Frankie dashed onto the deck, leaning over the railing in search of Benji.

They spotted their mom first. She was staring at them in relief from behind the fence separating the boat yard from the dock.

"Frankie! Carter!" she yelled.

"Mom!" Carter exclaimed.

"Mommy!" Frankie shouted.

Carter's smile dropped as he realized he could no longer hear Benji's bark.

"Benji," he whispered. "Benji!" he called louder before he spotted the bravest dog he had ever known lying motionless on the lower deck. He couldn't tell if Benji's chest was moving.

Carter felt terrified tears fill his eyes as he sprinted down the stairs, leaping over anything in his path, including a rail, to reach Benji.

Carter collapsed beside Benji and placed a hand on the dog's fur. He didn't feel any movement as his tears began to fall.

Frankie appeared at his side, and Carter lifted the poor dog in his arms, burying his face, which was streaked with tears, in Benji's fur as they jumped from the deck and onto the dock. The children began strolling through the grassy field between the dock and the fence, falling to the ground with Benji still held tightly in Carter's arms; their mother hurried to unlock the fence and ran to meet them.

Their mother looked ready to dissolve into tears when her eyes landed on Benji, but she held it together as best she could for her children as she knelt on the ground beside them.

"Oh, Benji," Carter whimpered as he and Frankie began to cry. Whitney bowed her head in grief as they mourned the greatest dog they had ever known.

Seconds later, Carter felt something soft smack lightly against his hand, and he opened his eyes, hardly daring to hope, as he looked down at Benji.

For a moment, Benji remained still, but then, he weakly wagged his tail.

"Benji!" Carter sobbed in relief, and his mother and sister followed his gaze before their faces lit up with joy as Benji whimpered and covered his eyes.

Benji licked Carter's face as Carter picked him up.

"Benji," he murmured before looking at the dog and then at Frankie, both safe and sound. His eyes found the sky as Frankie and his mom celebrated their safety. "Thank you," he mumbled, and he knew that somewhere, God heard him.

A short man in a spiffy suit appeared beside them, holding out his hand, and Carter's jaw dropped when he saw the watch- their father's watch- held in the man's hand.

"I believe this belongs to you," the man said as Carter accepted the watch, slowly, not entirely believing it.

"Thank you," his mother told the man before lightly stroking her children's faces, her eyes filling with tears of relief. And thank _you_," she told the children. She didn't have to say what she was thanking them for. Carter and Frankie already knew.

Whitney leaned forward and held her beloved children in her arms, thanking God that her children made it home safely.

"I love you," she whispered to her babies.

"We love you, too, Mommy," the children chorused.

The hug was broken by Benji, now looking and feeling much better, leaping up to lick Whitney's face while the woman laughed.

Benji," their mom said, carrying the dog as they walked back towards the boat yard. "Welcome to the family."

* * *

"Are you still going to send me away?" Carter's quiet voice cut through the air like a knife through butter as all sound stopped at the breakfast table three days after the children and their new dog returned home.

"Of course not," Whitney assured him. "Kids, I need to talk to you. This relationship… I don't understand it, but I do understand one thing: you're better together than apart. I want to listen. To be more accepting… if you're willing to talk to me, that is. I want you kids safe and home and happy, and you won't be happy if I try to keep you apart. A mother wants what's best for her children, and this relationship is what's best for you because it makes you happy."

Carter and Frankie grinned before tackling their mother in a hug while Benji barked in excitement.

"Just tell me one thing," their mother said. "This relationship… how… what caused it? I know that doesn't sound right-"

"We understand what you're saying, Mom," Carter assured her, slipping his hand into Frankie's. "We love each other, just like you loved Dad and Dad loved you. We can't stop ourselves from loving each other."

"We love each other. It's as simple as that," Frankie told their mother.

Their mother nodded, ruffling Carter's hair and running her fingers through one of Frankie's pigtails. "Not many kids find true love this early in life. Some don't find it at all. I'm glad you two found it."

Carter nodded. "Me, too."

"I love you," the younger sister whispered to her brother and boyfriend.

"To the moon and back," the older brother agreed, a clear promise in his voice, before the two siblings kissed, and their mom only smiled, making no move to stop them. Pulling them apart didn't even cross her mind.

* * *

_All reviews are fantastic; constructive criticism is appreciated; and all flames will be ignored and reported if necessary. Thank you for reading!_


	2. Hold On (You Know We'll Find A Way)

_The Carter and Frankie series is a prompt from Godzilla183._

_WARNINGS: INCEST, MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, PTSD (POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER)_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Benji, 2018 or the characters or anything that you recognize.**_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Hold On (You Know We'll Find A Way)**

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

**Riley Children's Hospital, Room 19**

**May 21st, 2018**

**4:03 PM**

"X-rays came back negative for broken bones… CT scans came back negative for Carter, but showed Francine-"

"Frankie."

"Pardon?"

"She prefers to be called Frankie," Whitney Hughes clarified, glancing through the doorway and into the hospital room at her children.

After her children and their new dog were safe and sound, she finally got a good look at them. Compared to what she had feared, neither looked too bad in terms of physical appearance, but it was still jarring to see her children in such a state.

A dark purple mark marred the side of Carter's face, likely from being slapped, and Frankie's eyes continuously wandered around the room in confusion, spacing out (sometimes in the middle of sentences), and she squinted her eyes against the bright lights of the hospital, making sounds of discomfort in her throat every so often. Disorientation, sensitivity to light… Even if Whitney wasn't a paramedic, she would still be able to tell that her daughter had some kind of head injury. Rope burns encircled their wrists, angry red and violet lines standing out against their pale white skin.

They laid in two beds, Frankie on the left (the far) side of the room and Carter on the right, the bed closest to the door. They would have probably been laying in the same bed if the hospital allowed it, but they couldn't be in the same bed until the doctors cleared them and said it wouldn't aggravate any injuries or spread any diseases between the two in case either had contracted a virus. They wore hospital gowns, and the clothes they had been wearing had been turned over to the police as evidence (the kidnappers were literally caught red handed. How much more evidence did they need?). Frankie's dark blonde hair hung in drooping pigtails, the dusty ribbons trailing in her even dirtier curls. She lay on her back, eyes on the ceiling, not saying a word, and Carter laid on his side, staring at Frankie and never taking his eyes off of her, as though trying to reassure himself that she was still there.

"Of course," Dr. Harmild (pronounced Her-mild) replied, smiling kindly and not with the blatantly fake kindness most doctors used. Genuine kindness, and it soothed her, if only by a little as she kept her eyes focused on her children, afraid they would disappear again if she took her eyes off of them for one second, not even caring how irrational her fear was. After losing her children, that fear seemed perfectly rational, thank you very much.

"Anyway," Dr. Harmild continued, reading from the report on his clipboard and twirling a pen in the fingers of his right hand, "The CT scan showed Frankie having a mild concussion, but as long as she takes it easy, it's nothing to worry about. They both have mild to moderate contusions and a couple of lesions, none of which required stitches. No internal injuries… ability to move, walk, speak, breathe, and answer questions properly. No signs of memory loss. No signs of viral or bacterial infections or any other disease for that matter. Frankie's temperature is a little high, but it should go down in a few hours, and if it doesn't, we'll give her some fever medication. Overall, they should be _physically_ fine. However, given the… traumatic events that led to this hospital visit, I would like to keep them overnight for observation, and I will have our on call psychiatrist do an evaluation of their mental state."

Whitney nodded, barely listening anymore as she stared at her poor, sweet, innocent children in those hospital beds. "Thank you, Dr. Harmild."

The doctor nodded. "I suggest… giving them a little space," he said, tentatively, choosing his words carefully. "They need time to… let everything sink in. They're still in shock, and they just need a little time. Why don't you head downstairs and get some fresh air? They both have a call button if they need anything, and we've hooked up a few things to monitor their physical health, so if anything changes, I'll let you know."

Whitney nodded, swallowing hard. She didn't want to leave her kids, but she knew that they didn't need her right now. They needed each other, and after everything… she owed them that much.

"Thank you, Dr. Harmild," she murmured, voice hoarse with emotion and the tears she had shed when her kids weren't looking (or at least when she thought they weren't looking), before she headed down the hallway, her shoes clicking against the pristine white floors, pulling out her phone to call Detective Lyle, who was at the vet with Benji and his new dog Mongrel while she was at the hospital with Carter and Frankie.

She closed her eyes, not allowing one more tear to fall. Crying wouldn't solve anything. She had to be strong. For her kids… and for herself because if she started crying again, she didn't think she'd ever stop.

* * *

Carter knew he shouldn't have been listening to his mom and Dr. Harmild, but he couldn't help it. You try not eavesdropping on someone when you know they're talking about you!

All right, no broken bones, no internal injuries, no diseases, all sounded good. Dr. Harmild said they had a few contusions, which Carter knew meant bruises, and some lesions, which (judging by the detail about not requiring stitches) meant scrapes and cuts, but Carter already knew all of that. Frankie had a concussion and a minor fever, all things the doctor said would go away with a little time and rest, but the doctor's assurances of a full recovery didn't make Carter worry any less for his sister, the love of his life.

He couldn't lose her. He would fall apart if he did, and yet, he had almost lost her so many times in just a few days.

"Then we don't need them no more."

Carter couldn't prevent the small gasp from leaving his throat, and he twisted in the hospital bed, nearly falling out of it, but the owner of that horrible voice that spoke even more horrible words was no where in sight.

"Then we don't need them no more."

Carter sat up fully on the bed, heart pounding in his chest, and his head swiveled from side to side. Where was he? He couldn't let that monster hurt Frankie more than he already had!

"Then we don't need them no more."

No. Syd was in jail. He was gone, locked away. He couldn't get them. He couldn't hurt them.

"Then we don't need them no more."

But what if he gets out? What if he comes after you? What if he comes after _Frankie?_

"Then we don't need them no more."

The voices were overlapping, invading his ears from everywhere and nowhere, and Carter was practically hyperventilating as he hugged his knees to his chest, pressing his hands over his ears, not wanting to hear that awful voice ever again for as long as he lived-

The cycle of panicked thoughts was interrupted by a sudden tearing sound, and he slowly looked up to see his sister, standing beside the trashcan with an awkward stance, almost like she was fighting gravity and losing. She had taken the ribbons out of her hair, allowing the blonde waves to fall loose, and she was tearing those ribbons to shreds, the colorful pieces fluttering into the abyss of the trashcan.

She teetered a little, and for a moment, Carter didn't remember why, but then, he recalled what the doctor said.

A concussion. From Carter's limited knowledge of concussions, he knew concussions (heck, almost any head injury) caused dizziness and sometimes even unconsciousness.

Panic attack almost _(almost)_ forgotten, Carter jumped off of the bed and ran to his sister's side, grabbing her right as she fell, taking her weight and slowly lowering her to the ground.

She was still conscious but weak and didn't look ready to stand, so Carter simply sat on the floor with her, hugging his sister against his side and rubbing his hand gently over her arm.

That was when the dam broke.

Tears flowed freely from Frankie's blue eyes, and sobs were torn from her throat, ugly gasping sounds that grated on Carter's ears because they were sounds of pain, of sadness, broken cries of emotional agony, and they were coming from his girlfriend, his everything. Despite the fact that the sounds were shattering his heart over and over again with each second they went on, he sat there and allowed her to let it out. She needed this.

After several moments, Frankie scrubbed her eyes, and she swallowed audibly.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Carter pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't apologize. You needed to let it out."

Frankie looked at him, vibrant blue eyes now dull with grief. They hadn't really lost anyone, or… maybe they had. They had lost the people they used to be. They would never be the same as they were before this, but the children they were only two days ago were still there. Just buried beneath the pain and the trauma, and Carter was afraid they would never be able to dig those children, the people they used to be, back out of the graves Syd and Titus had put them in.

"You need to let it out, too," she whispered, almost incapable of speaking in a louder voice, but they were so close together, Carter would have still heard her even if she barely breathed the words. "I heard you over there. Was it S.. Sy…_ him?"_

Carter didn't want to answer, but this was Frankie. She knew him inside and out. He could never lie to her.

He nodded.

Frankie nodded in return. "You don't have to be strong for me, Carter. We're strong together. That's why we work. One of us doesn't always shoulder the burden. We share it. That's why we're us, why we're CarterandFrankie instead of Carter _and_ Frankie," she said, enunciating the and between the second Carter and Frankie to make the separation painfully obvious.

Carter thought about continuing to hold his pain inside, but in the end, the love and trust in Frankie's eyes mirrored his own, and he decided that if she trusts him with her heart and her emotions and her brokenness, he can trust her with his.

So he broke down.

Hot drops of water cascaded down his face, dripping onto the white floors of the hospital ('why is everything in hospitals so white anyway?' he absentmindedly wondered) and his hospital gown. He dropped his arms from where they were wrapped around Frankie, resting his palms against the floor to support his trembling frame, only for his girlfriend to wrap her own arms around him, allowing him to cry into her shoulder. Her blonde hair brushed his cheek, but he found it soothing rather than bothersome. It felt like his chest was tearing itself apart, but Frankie was holding him together, keeping him from going from cracked and bent to unfixable. She was the only thing keeping him from losing himself entirely in the wake of the worst days of their lives.

After what felt like an eternity, he stopped crying, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he wrapped his hands around his sister's arm, which crossed over his chest, keeping them in an unbreakable embrace.

Minutes passed in silence before Frankie spoke again.

"Are we broken, Carter?"

Even Carter didn't know the answer to that question.

"I don't think so," he finally settled on. "We're alive. We're together, and if we got through Dad's death and Mom's original rejection, we can get through this. Just like we got through everything else."

"Together," Frankie finished.

But Carter couldn't help the small thought that crept into his mind: But what if that's not enough this time?

He immediately shook the thought from his brain. No. Frankie would always be enough to get him through the darkest nights, and he would do the same for her.

"We'll find a way," Frankie said, but it was hard to tell who she was trying to reassure: him or herself. "We just have to hold on until then."

Carter pressed a kiss to her lips, and she kissed back as the memories melted away, replaced by even a moment of bliss when they could forget and pretend that everything was okay.

But pretending was a strong word. They would be okay. Someday.

They would hold on, if only for each other. When life tries to drown them again and again, the other was the lifeline.

* * *

_Notes:_

_1\. I do not have PTSD. I did some research, but since I do not have experience with PTSD personally, I hope I wrote it in a realistic way._

_2\. Frankie was ripping up her ribbons because she wanted to destroy any reminders of their kidnapping, even something as small as the ribbons she wore during the traumatic event._

_Thanks for reading, and I hope everyone has a fantastic day!_


	3. We Are The Ashes On The Ground

_WARNINGS: INCEST, MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF CANCER/EPILEPSY/ILLNESS/HOSPITALS_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my OCs.**_

* * *

**We Are The Ashes On The Ground**

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

**Riley Children's Hospital, Room 19**

**May 22nd, 2018**

**12:39 PM**

After a very long, uncomfortable, and what felt like a pointless meeting with the psychiatrist (the shrink, Carter called her), Frankie was ready to go home and sleep in her own bed (hopefully with Carter right next to her), but no, they couldn't be discharged until three in the afternoon.

"I know, I know, hospitals suck," their mom said, sympathetically, patting Carter's back and smiling at Frankie, "But it won't be so bad. They have a playroom, and I'm sure there will be kids your age."

Frankie knew that their mom meant for it to be comforting, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that there were kids their age in the hospital, maybe even full time, was depressing.

Hospitals did suck. They were white and sterile and reminded her of death. The last time she had been in a hospital, her dad had died. She shook her head; no. No bad thoughts, especially not that. They were okay. Th-They were fine. They were alive, and Syd couldn't get to them, and... W_hy. Wasn't. This. Helping?_ Why was she still breathing so heavily-

Carter grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her panic attack, and with his touch, she managed to suck in a huge breath that soothed her burning lungs and chased away the dizziness that had enveloped her brain.

"It's okay," he whispered into her ear so their mom didn't overhear. "You're safe."

The words were so simple and yet so powerful.

They arrived at the playroom, and Frankie had to admit: It was pretty cool. There were Legos and stuffed animals and blocks and little play toys where you could slide beads along the railings and complete mazes. There was a small bookshelf in the corner with books ranging from Dr. Seuss to Charles Dickens and a few sofas with blankets thrown over them and pillows laying on the cushions.

The playroom wasn't overly crowded. A two year old girl with golden blonde hair was playing with one of the toys, sliding a wooden bead across a red rod and smiling brightly; an eight year old with a tuft of red hair on his head and freckles scattered across his cheeks was building a structure with wooden blocks on one of the tables; an older kid (maybe sixteen or seventeen) with shaggy black hair sat on one of the sofas with a book in his lap. Two kids were playing in the center of the room, building Legos. The nine year old boy was bald and had a small tube taped to his cheek, going under his nose and hooking around his ear, trailing down to a machine by his leg. He wore white pants and a white long sleeved shirt. The twelve year old girl had brown hair that came just past her shoulders and red glasses perched on her nose, reflecting her brown eyes. She wore pink pajamas, long pants and a short sleeved shirt, all pink.

Frankie glanced at Carter, and he nodded, reassuringly, before the two of them walked over to the two kids in the middle of the room.

"Can we play with you?" Carter asked, shyly.

The kids looked up and nodded, excitedly. Frankie wondered how often other kids wanted to play with them.

"I'm Salem," the boy chirped as Carter and Frankie sat beside them and grabbed a few Legos to join them in their building. "Call me Sal."

Salem. A relatively rare name. Frankie only knew one other Salem, a boy in her class who she never spoke to but heard his name when the teacher called role call.

"And I'm Edilda!" the girl exclaimed with a cheerful wave.

Frankie had never heard that name before, but it was pretty. The girl pronounced the name like Matilda without the M and a d sound instead of a t sound, and Frankie loved the way it rolled off the tongue.

"I'm Frankie, and this is my brother Carter," Frankie said. She didn't mention that Carter was so much more than that and neither did Carter. They weren't ashamed of their relationship. Far from it. But they only had two more hours until they could leave the hospital, and they didn't want to spend those two hours being given dirty looks with sneered insults.

"Nice to meet you, Frankie and Carter. Mind me asking why you're in here?" Edilda questioned.

Frankie smiled. She liked this girl. Straight forward and to the point, confident and kind but still not treating anyone like glass. She wasn't afraid to get out there. Frankie could tell all of that by the way she fearlessly asked a question most people would skirt around, as if the person they were speaking with was a fragile snowglobe and the question was a baseball hurtling towards it. This girl asked the question as easily as asking what their favorite color was, no hesitation, no pity. Frankie liked it.

"We were, um, kidnapped," Frankie answered, "A few days ago, so they're checking us over to make sure we're okay. We get discharged at three this afternoon."

"Lucky," the boy muttered, not bitterly, just a little sadly. "I have small cell lung car… carn… I have lung cancer," the boy settled on after a moment of tripping over the medical term. "I had complications with the chemotherapy, so I'm in here for _at least_ a few more months."

"I have epilepsy," Edilda stated, connecting two Legos together to start building a tower. "The doctors are still trying to find the right treatment, and after my last seizure when I hit my head and needed stitches," she said, pulling aside a lock of brown hair to reveal a line of stitches behind her ear, "My parents decided to admit me to the hospital, where I can get immediate medical attention if I have another seizure."

Carter nodded. "So what do you guys want to build?" he asked. Glad the conversation had steered away from depressing topics, Frankie turned back to the structure, already taking another handful of blocks to continue building.

As the hours went on, frowns turned to smiles, tears turned to laughter, and four kids bonded, becoming friends and maybe with time, best friends or even family. They were four kids with nothing but ashes in the wake of the fires that tore through their lives without a care for the lives the flames were destroying, but out of those ashes, a friendship began to rise.

* * *

**Later That Day…**

"Carter, Frankie, it's time to go," Whitney called, smiling in amusement at the castle her children had built, complete with towers and high walls and different levels and even a few doors and windows.

Carter and Frankie actually looked disappointed to leave their new friends, but they stood and said their goodbyes. Frankie hugged the boy, and Carter high fived the girl as they headed towards their mom.

Whitney spotted a man standing against the wall of the hallway, and with a quick glance at the phone he had turned on, she saw that he had a picture of her kids' new friend as his screen saver, likely his daughter. He was speaking in quiet tones with a man and a woman, who pointed to the boy with chuckles, making the man laugh, clearly telling him something funny about the boy. They were probably his parents.

She had overheard the conversation between the kids about how the boy would be in the hospital for a few more months and the girl had a seizure disorder and had been admitted to the hospital after her latest seizure…

An idea sparked in her mind.

"Hey, kids, why don't you head on down to your hospital room and get your things?" Whitney said to her kids as they stopped in front of her. "I'll catch up."

Her kids looked a little confused, but they did as she told them, and after they were out of sight, Whitney approached the other adults in the hallway.

"Hey, are you those two kids' parents?" She inquired as they turned to her, pointing to her kids' new friends.

The brown haired woman smiled, sweetly. "Yes. Sal is our son," she said, patting the man- her husband if the wedding rings on their fingers were any indication- on the shoulder.

"And Edilda is my daughter," the other man answered, pocketing his phone. "And you are?"

"I'm Whitney. The kids building Legos with Sal and Edilda are my kids," she replied.

The woman smiled even wider at that. "Really? Oh, it was so sweet of them to play with Sal and Edilda. Ever since Sal got sick, nobody's wanted to hang out with him, like they think cancer is contagious or something." Her honey like voice, woven with a slight Southern accent, developed a sad tone as she said this.

"And everyone thinks Edilda is weird because she has seizures," Edilda's dad muttered, badly concealed anger coloring his voice.

Whitney would be lying if she said she didn't feel slightly awkward talking about dark topics such as these, but she smiled, pleasantly.

"Are your kids allowed to leave the hospital?"

"Yes, but they have to be back by a certain time," Sal's dad responded. "Why?"

Whitney's nerves dissipated as her polite smile became more genuine. "How would you feel about our kids having a playdate tomorrow?"

* * *

_Notes:_

_Fire symbolizes the cards they had drawn in life. Sal's illness, Edilda's disorder, Carter and Frankie's kidnapping. Ashes represents how these things have changed their lives and destroyed the lives they had before, but out of the ashes, a phoenix rises, like how their friendship wouldn't have been created if these things had not happened._

_This chapter was mainly just to introduce Sal and Edilda._


	4. Let Beauty Come Out Of Ashes

_Hello, everyone. Welcome back to Promise (I sound like a tour guide. "This is Promise, and I will be your tour guide today. Straight ahead, you will see a new chapter." I know, I'm such a dork). Enjoy chapter 4!_

_I forgot to mention that the chapter titles are song lyrics. The title of Chapter 1, We Love Each Other, is the only chapter so far that is not based off of a song lyric._

_Chapter 2: Hold On (You Know We'll Find A Way)- "Hold On" by Extreme Music_

_Chapter 3: We Are The Ashes On The Ground- "Circles" by Greta Svado Bech (Ft. Ludovico Einaudi Experience)_

_Chapter 4: Let Beauty Come Out Of Ashes- "Ashes" by Celine Dion (from "Deadpool 2" Motion Picture Soundtrack)_

_WARNINGS: VERY BRIEF MENTION OF KIDNAPPING, ILLNESS (LUNG CANCER, INCLUDING A STRESSFUL MOMENT AT THE END THAT HAS TO DO WITH SAL'S CANCER, AND EPILEPSY), MENTIONS OF HOSPITALS_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Benji, 2018 or the characters or anything that you recognize. I only own my OCs, including: Salem Sorreth, Teresa and Peyton Sorreth, Dove and Faith Sorreth (mentioned), Edilda Matthews, and Derek Matthews.**_

* * *

**Let Beauty Come Out Of Ashes**

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

**Rileys Children's Hospital, Front Entrance**

**May 22nd, 2018**

**9:14 AM**

"Mom, I can't believe you did this!" The words were spoken with excitement and cheerfulness as her children peered out the car windows when the hospital came into view.

Whitney smiled at her kids in the rearview mirror, baffled by how such a strong friendship could be molded in less than three hours in a hospital of all places. Her eyes found the photograph of her, Johnathon, and their best friend, Mike, the picture she always kept clipped to her sun visor. Well, maybe she did understand.

Standing on the sidewalk outside of the hospital were five people: Edilda and her father (who she learned had been separated from his wife since Edilda, their only child, was diagnosed with epilepsy a few years ago. His name was Derek Matthews) and Salem and his mom and dad (who she learned were named Teresa and Peyton Sorreth- pronounced just like it's spelled- and had two other children, who didn't come today but were named Dove and Faith). Edilda and Sal were smiling so widely, it was a wonder their faces didn't hurt from their grins, but Whitney could more than understand their excitement: Sal hadn't left the hospital in six months, and Edilda had been in and out of hospitals for years; none of the medication seemed to be working for her. Not only that, but they didn't have very many friends because no one wanted to be friends with the 'sick kids.' They either treated Sal and Edilda like glass or like the plague. They barely had any outings and no people to hang out with besides family. They were probably sick of hospitals and being alone.

Looking at her kids- both ecstatic to see (and actually have friends _to_ see) their friends- in the rearview mirror, Whitney realized that Sal and Edilda weren't the only ones tired of being alone.

The car had barely stopped before Carter and Frankie were practically leaping out of the vehicle to greet their new friends that seemed to understand them more than people they'd known since Kindergarten.

"Teresa is going to ride with you," Derek informed Whitney through the rolled down passenger window. "Peyton and I will meet you there."

Whitney nodded. "Okay," she responded as Teresa sat in the seat beside her with Edilda next to the window (she had a car with three seats in the front and three seats in the back). "You know how to get there?"

Peyton nodded. "Yep, and we have extra oxygen and a seizure kit, just in case," he added, glancing at Edilda and Sal, who were excitedly chatting with Carter and Frankie, Edilda turned awkwardly in her seat to look at them, but the girl didn't seem to mind.

Whitney nodded. "Thanks. See you there," she told them, and with those words, she pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "Teresa," Whitney murmured, lowering her voice so the children didn't overhear, "Are you sure Sal is up to this? I mean, physical activity shouldn't cause Edilda to have a seizure, but Sal with his oxygen tank-"

"He should be fine," Teresa answered. "The doctor cleared him, and if he runs out of oxygen, we have the back up tank."

Whitney nodded. "Okay, and Carter and Frankie and Edilda will watch out for him," Whitney assured the woman, who smiled back at her.

"I know they will," she replied, glancing at the laughing kids as they talked about anything and everything, as if they had known each other for years instead of less than twenty-four hours.

* * *

"Mom, are you sure you're okay with me walking so much?" Sal inquired as they pulled up in front of Forest Park (not a real park, as far as I know).

The park was big and surrounded by woods, but the woods were safe with easily defined trails, and the only time anyone had gotten lost was a four year old who wandered off a few years ago, and he was found in under an hour. There were a couple of playsets and lots of hills and grassy areas. Families were scattered across the park, seated on picnic blankets or on the grass or on benches and foldable chairs, all looking happy as can be. It was a great park, and Frankie and Carter had always loved it. Carter was sure Edilda and Sal would love it, too.

Teresa turned around to look at her son as Edilda and Whitney opened their car doors.

"Sal, I trust you, and Edilda, Carter, and Frankie will watch out for you. If your oxygen gets low, just come on back, and I'll set you up with the extra tank," she assured the boy, and Sal looked at his three friends, deciding that he trusted them enough to keep an eye on him and point it out if his oxygen reader on the tank was low or if he looked tired or was breathing heavily or anything else.

"Okay," he agreed before sliding across the car seat and stepping out onto the pavement, thanking Frankie as she helped him lift his tank out of the door and set it lightly on the sidewalk.

"Okay, kids, us old people," Whitney said with a joking smile, "Are going to settle right over here by these bushes. You can take a walk, play at the park, whatever. Edilda and Sal, keep your phones on, and call if there's an emergency and answer when we call. Stay on the trails and come back if you need anything. Sal and Edilda need to be back at the hospital by six, so be back here by five just to be on the safe side. Got all that? I don't know about Sal and Edilda, but I know how my kids are. Repeat it back to me."

Carter gave a breathy laugh, pretending to be exasperated but actually glad his mother was letting them out of her sight at all after what happened only a few days ago.

"Keep our phones on," Edilda began.

"Call in case of an emergency and answer when you call," Sal continued.

"Stay on the trails and come back if we need anything," Frankie stated.

"Be back here by five," Carter finished.

Whitney nodded. "Good. Now… off you go, you little munchkins!" she exclaimed, and the kids laughed as they took off running for the woods, Edilda, Carter, and Frankie purposefully running a little slower than they normally would so that Sal, even with his bulky oxygen tank, could keep up. None of them noticed Teresa give a small smile at the kind gesture.

* * *

"There's something we have to tell you," was one of the first things Frankie said as the four kids walked into the forest, causing Sal and Edilda to turn to the siblings.

Carter grabbed his sister's hand. "We're dating " he blurted before he could chicken out.

They expected many things. Glares, insults, even the laughs and the 'you're joking' reaction…

"Okay."

… But they didn't expect that.

Frankie looked up to see Sal and Edilda looking… like they had just told them they liked English class more than math.

"Okay? You're fine with it?" Frankie wondered, feeling a little sad at even having to ask something like that.

Sal's nod and smile made that sadness fade, though.

"Of course," Sal responded. "Love is the most important thing in the world. Why should we risk forgetting that by arguing about what love is 'right' or 'wrong'?"

"Love is love," Edilda summed up, simply, with an equally bright smile.

That was it. No disgust. No hate. Just acceptance.

Carter almost felt like crying. "Thank you," he said, and Frankie's eyes expressed just as much gratitude.

The two of them nodded, but they didn't say you're welcome or anything because Carter and Frankie should never _have_ to thank them for something they should receive without asking, something they deserved. Everyone deserves acceptance for who they are, and Carter and Frankie… their love for each other has made them who they are, and people should accept them for that.

Edilda's smile suddenly turned mischievous as she reached down to grab a long, curvy stick that she held in her hands, twirling it lightly between her fingers.

"I challenge you!" she exclaimed, pointing her stick at Carter and Sal.

The other three kids grinned, widely, and picked up 'weapons' (sticks) of their own, and the game began.

* * *

"On guard!" Edilda shouted, trying to act serious but unable to keep a few playful laughs from escaping, as she brandished her 'sword': a long, curvy stick.

"We will fight to the death, Princess Edilda!" Carter replied.

"Oh, I am not a mere damsel, Sir Carter, and neither is my ally, Warrior Frankie!" Edilda announced as Frankie jumped off of a small hill, arriving on the 'battlefield,' which was just a vacant part of the trail.

"Princess Edilda is correct. We are formidable foes," Frankie promised, pretending to draw her own stick/sword from an imaginary scabbard on her back.

"That may be true, Warrior Frankie, but so are we," Carter responded, waving a hand behind him in a presenting gesture. "Me and my ally, Knight Salem!"

Silence.

Carter frowned. "Knight Salem?" he repeated, turning and abruptly dropping his hand when he saw Sal bent over, wheezing loudly, with his hand over his chest and one knee in the dirt, barely supporting his weak frame. "Sal!"

The three other kids dropped their sticks and bolted towards their friend. Carter reached him first, and he didn't hesitate as he knelt on the ground and wrapped an arm around Sal's shoulders to keep the boy from fully collapsing to the ground.

Frankie hurried to grab his oxygen tank, and she cursed (a rare event for Francine Hughes, who had never used bad language a day in her life… until now, that is) when she saw the needle pointing to the red area on the oxygen monitor. Nearly empty. They had been so caught up in their playing that they had totally forgotten to keep an eye on Sal's oxygen levels. She felt so stupid!

"Edilda, call your dad. Tell him to bring the extra oxygen to the Green Trail. We're about a mile down the trail. Tell them to hurry," Frankie commanded, truly sounding like the warrior she had been portraying only seconds before. "Sal, I know you're scared," she said, firmly and steady, a direct opposite to the fear she felt inside, "But panicking will only make it worse. We are not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. You need to try to breathe with me, okay?"

Sal shook his head, frantically. "C-Can't," he gasped.

"Dad!" Frankie heard Edilda exclaim behind him. She sighed in relief. Mr. Matthews had picked up the phone. Thank goodness.

"You need to try," Carter said, and he took Sal's hand, placing it on his own chest. "I know breathing is hard for you, but we're right here, and we're going to help you through it. In, one, two, three…"

Sal inhaled as strongly as he could, a whistle sounding as he took in at least a minor amount of air.

"Out, one, two three…" Carter continued.

The wheeze was even louder, a splitting cry in the silence of the forest, as he exhaled.

"Good. You're doing very good," Frankie assured him. "Stay calm, and breathing will be a little easier, okay? We're right here," she took his hand to comfort him.

Edilda sat beside them, the phone still pressed to her ear. "They're on their way."

"See?" Carter told Sal. "Help is coming. Just keep breathing, buddy. In, one, two, three… Out, one, two, three…"

* * *

It took a little under nine minutes for their parents to get there (you couldn't take vehicles on the trail, and even pumped full of adrenaline and worry, a mile was still a mile, and the adults were all in their forties and fifties), and by the time they arrived, Sal's oxygen was even more dangerously low than it had been.

"In, one, two, three," Carter was saying, Frankie's hand still gripping Sal's, as Teresa dashed over with Peyton at her side and Derek and Whitney not far behind them. "Out, one, two, three…"

Teresa didn't waste a second as she replaced the empty oxygen tank with the new one, and Sal inhaled a deep breath of air, growing visibly stronger as the blue tinge left his lips and the panic began to flee from his eyes.

"See, buddy?" Carter said with an unbelievably relieved smile. "You kept breathing. You did it."

While Sal continued to take in deep breaths with his father beside him, Whitney pulled Teresa aside.

"Teresa, I am so sorry."

Teresa frowned, looking genuinely confused. "What for?"

Whitney didn't _get_ how the woman didn't understand what she was talking about! "Teresa, they were supposed to keep an eye on Sal, and they didn't, and then this happened, and Sal could have-"

"But he didn't," Teresa interrupted, placing a hand on Whitney's shoulder and looking her deep in the eyes, no anger visible in the brown depths. "Whitney, do you know how many times something like this has happened with me? Even the doctors made a mistake once and forgot to refill his oxygen. It's just that. A mistake. It's easy to forget to check sometimes, and while it can be frightening when you do forgot, it's not a bad thing here because it means they're treating him like any other kid and not like the sick kid. Sal doesn't just want to be the sick kid. He doesn't want people to worry about him. He wants them to treat him like anyone else, and that's what Carter, Frankie, and Edilda did. Did it scare me to death? Yes. But they kept him calm. They called for help. They stayed with him and tried to keep him from panicking because that would have made it worse. They handled the situation like adults. They probably handled it better than I would have. I wish it didn't have to be like _this_, but this did prove something to me. This proved that I can trust your kids and Derek's kid with my kid."

Whitney was baffled. If the roles had been reversed and that had been Carter or Frankie asphyxiating because their friends forgot to check their oxygen tank, she would have blown up and dragged them as far away from those kids as possible, and this woman… wasn't even angry. In fact, she trusted Carter and Frankie and Edilda. At the very least, Whitney wouldn't have trusted them as far as she could throw them if that happened to her kids on their friends' watch.

Teresa smiled before she nodded at the kids, who were already back to laughing and talking as if nothing had happened, and if Carter, Frankie, and Edilda sat a little closer to Sal than was probably necessary, no one commented on it.

"That is the happiest I have seen Sal since he got sick," Teresa told Whitney, her eyes on the children. "You really think I'm going to risk my son losing that smile because of a mistake I have made myself?"

Whitney focused on her own children, and she realized that… for the first time since they had been rescued, some of the light had found its way back into their eyes. They no longer looked dull or scared or like they had seen too much in twelve and nine years.

They looked happy.

"Yeah," Whitney murmured, watching as Frankie kissed Carter on the cheek and nobody even glared. Not Sal. Not Edilda. Not Peyton or Teresa or Derek. "You're absolutely right."

* * *

_Characters:_

_Teresa, Peyton, and Derek will be relatively minor characters. They appear every now and then._

_Sal and Edilda will not be main characters after chapter 20, but they will still show up from time to time (at least once every five to ten unless there's a plotline going on that takes more time) because they're in a hospital, so they can't leave very often, especially Sal, but they will get 'outings' occasionally._

_Dove and Faith Sorruth (who were mentioned in this chapter) will become main characters. They'll make an appearance sometime between chapter 10 and 20._

_Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!_


	5. I Grew Up Overnight

_I Grew Up Overnight- "Alive" by Sia_

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

**I Grew Up Overnight**

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**New Orleans, Louisiana**

**Carsons Elementary School**

**May 26th, 2018**

**8:02 AM**

"Are you sure you're ready?" Whitney asked, bending down to straighten the straps on Carter's backpack. "It's only been four days, so if you're not ready, I understand, and you can stay home."

They were standing in front of Carter and Frankie's school (Whitney had, understandably, refused to let them walk to school). Kids wandered around them, hurrying to class or dragging their feet or somewhere in between. For once, hardly anyone paid Carter and Frankie any attention. Typically, they attracted glares, from staff and students alike, when they went within a few feet of school grounds, but this time (probably due to it being the last week of school), everyone seemed to be too excited or burnt out- depending on the student- to care about the school freaks.

Carter was dressed in a sleeveless, button up, light blue shirt with jeans and sneakers. The tank top helped to give his body freedom from the heat of a Louisiana summer, and his hair was already unbelievably frizzy, and it was barely eight am. His bag (a dark blue one he had gotten from the back of his closet since his other backpack was still considered evidence, which sucked because most of his books were in there. He really hoped somebody explained the situation to the teachers while also hoping the teachers didn't gossip or blab about his and Frankie's situation around the students) hung off of his shoulders, weighing less than two pounds with only a few notebooks and some pens inside.

Frankie wore a pink T-shirt, a sleeveless jean jacket, and a white skirt with pink shoes that fastened over her ankle; her black string necklace was tied around her neck, the single bead settling in the hollow of her throat. A beige bag with an over the shoulder strap (it was actually their mother's since her own backpack was also considered evidence until further notice) crossed over her body and rested against her hip. For the first time in a long time, she wore her hair down, saying it was too soon to wear it in ribbons again. She'd practically thrown all of her ribbons into her closet, not wanting to see them. If the police ever returned the clothes they had worn that day, Carter wouldn't be surprised if she burned every piece of fabric, and he couldn't blame her. He would probably do the same thing.

"Mom, it's the last week of school. We have finals," Carter pointed out, trying to look more confident than he felt as eyed the open doors to the school, which appeared more like a black hole to him.

"I know, but I'm sure we can arrange for you to take your finals online or in the summer or-" Whitney fretted. She would much rather prefer to have her children home where she could keep an eye on them and make sure they were safe and happy (well, as happy as they could be, given what they went through).

"Mom," Frankie piped up. "We need to do this, and you need to go back to work. You still need to pay the bills and put food on the table."

"But you are my first priority," Whitney promised, flinching at the subtle reminder of a time when her children weren't her top priority. "If you need me, you call me. I haven't had the chance to get Carter a new phone yet, but I did purchase some cheap disposable phones," Whitney said, pulling two black flip phones from her purse. "If you need anything, I've already put my number in there. The teachers know the situation, and they have been instructed to not tell any of the students. If you tell them, that's up to you, but the teachers are sworn to secrecy. If they tell anyone, they lose their jobs, so you don't have to worry about that," Whitney rambled, anxiously.

"Mom," Carter interrupted. "We'll be okay. We'll watch out for each other. We promise."

Whitney hesitated before nodding. "Okay," she agreed, handing them the phones. "Remember: anything at all," she reiterated as they accepted the phones and slipped them in their backpacks.

"Anything at all," her kids repeated before disappearing into the school, hand in hand.

* * *

The minute the couple walked into the school, Carter could tell that something was different than it had been before their kidnapping.

All of the kids around them were just so… carefree. Students chatted with friends, glanced at phones, even read books as they walked. They smiled, they frowned, but all of their eyes were so innocent, like they had never seen a shadow or a monster in their lives, and they probably hadn't. Not true shadows or real monsters, anyway. All of these kids were just children, and Carter and Frankie should be just like them, but… they grew up. Overnight, Carter and Frankie went from innocent, naïve, happy children to people who had seen the horrors of the world and lived to tell the tale.

The worst part is that compared to what Carter and Frankie saw on TV or in newspapers, what they went through was nothing. It could've been worse, right?

"Maybe Mom was right." Frankie spoke so abruptly and so quietly that Carter almost didn't realize she had spoken at all, but when he turned to her for confirmation, she continued, "Maybe we aren't ready for this."

Now that Frankie mentioned it, Carter could see how small she looked, how skittish she appeared, and he probably didn't look much better, but they had to push ahead. Syd and Titus had already stolen two days of their lives when they didn't deserve one second of the siblings' time, much less 20 hours, 13 minutes, and 3 seconds of their lives. Carter wouldn't allow one more minute to be wasted on those two criminals. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

But deep down, Carter knew that his brain wasn't necessarily giving him a choice. His mind needed time to heal, but he didn't need time because he wasn't hurt. The worst he had was a bruise, for goodness sake! He wasn't hurt! He wasn't… hurt…

Why couldn't he breathe?

His lungs had closed off. He couldn't inhale or exhale; he couldn't do anything. His legs felt all quivery, like they were about to give out, and he was sweating up a storm, but his hands were trembling and tingling like they were cold. His heart was pounding; why was it pounding? Was he having a heart attack or an asthma attack? Was he _dying?_

Carter flung his arm out, reaching for something, anything, to ground him, desperately begging for help that he couldn't find. He was alone, and he was scared, and he just wanted to lay down and scream, but he was frozen. His eyes were closed, and everything was dark, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, not with the scary world he knew was waiting just beyond his closed eyelids.

Just as Carter began to fear he was going to lose his sanity or get sick on the floors of the hallway (whichever happened first), a hand grabbed his and gently pulled him into an empty classroom.

"Carter," a calm, soothing voice cut through the panic. "I need you to breathe."

What? Couldn't the voice see that he was trying to do just that?

"Carter, I know it feels like you can't-" Geesh, was the voice reading his mind? "-But you can. Here, breathe with me."

That hand took his again and placed it on something. A thin chest. He could feel the grooves of the person's ribcage against his thumb, a lock of hair tickling two of his fingers, the soft fabric of a shirt under his palm. Their hand remained over his. The chest expanded as the person breathed in, and their hands rose with the chest.

"Okay, do what I do," the person said, and Carter tried, and when he breathed in, he was surprised when air actually entered his lungs. "Good. Now, I'm going to need you to claw your way back, okay? Five things you feel."

"Uh…" Carter was shocked he could even talk with how dry his mouth had become. "My backpack? I can feel the straps on my shoulders… Um, your hair? My shirt. Your jacket… Um, your hand?"

Carter felt kind of silly, but it actually appeared to be helping. He could breathe a little easier now.

"Okay, three things you know."

"The square root of 81 is 9," Carter blurted the first thing that popped into his head. "My name is Carter Louie Hughes, and it's… it's our first day back at school after… after…" He was already starting to breathe heavily again.

The person noticed and quickly tried to steer him away from that train of thought.

"Good. Now, one thing you smell."

Carter inhaled deeply through his nose, and he smelled… a pleasant combination of Cherry Blossoms (shampoo?), Lemons (body wash?), and a scent he could never name but loved so much that it was ingrained in his memory. He always recognized the scent, and it always made him smile because it wasn't just any scent. It was _her_ scent.

"You. I smell you."

"Okay. Now, can you open your eyes for me?"

Carter managed to open his eyes, and he found himself staring at his girlfriend, who smiled.

"There's those brown eyes I love so much," she said as she lowered their hands from her chest but kept their hands intertwined as they came to rest between them. "Feel better?"

Carter nodded, shakily. "A little. Thanks, but where'd you learn to do that?"

"Remember my friend Molly from dance class? She has panic attacks, too," Frankie answered. "May I kiss you?"

Carter smiled. "You never have to ask. No matter how panicked I am, your kisses always help," he said as he pressed a kiss to her lips, and she gently kissed back. Even after the kiss ended, they still stood there in that embrace, Frankie's head resting against his chest.

"We're never gonna be those kids again, are we?" Frankie questioned as she stared out the window of the classroom door at the passing students, remembering a time (only a few days ago, but it felt like an eternity) when she had been just like them.

"No, Frankie," Carter answered, truthfully. He couldn't bring himself to lie. He could lie to himself, but he couldn't lie to Frankie. "I'm afraid not."

* * *

"You don't have to feel bad, you know. I couldn't go to school for three days after my boyfriend dumped me in high school. I can't imagine going back to school after what you want through," Whitney told them as they drove back towards their apartment building, the mother of two having picked them up before first period had even begun. She hadn't minded, though; if anything, she'd been a little relieved.

Carter nodded, staring at the back of his mother's seat as he tightened his grip on Frankie's hand. "It's just… we shouldn't be like this. What we went through… other people have it worse, and I couldn't even get through one class before I had a break down," he muttered, self depreciatingly.

Not even a moment later, Whitney was pulling over, causing him to glance up in confusion, as she turned in her seat to look him in the eye. She didn't look angry, but she was stern.

"Carter, have you ever heard the saying that other people may get punched worse, but it doesn't mean yours didn't hurt?"

Carter frowned and shook his head, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"It basically means that other people may have it worse, but it doesn't make your problems any less important, any less significant," Whitney explained. "What you went through would terrify most adults, and you and your sister… you're just kids. Just because others have worst experiences doesn't mean you can't be affected by yours, and I never want to hear you think that you don't have a right to deal with what you went through. These things take time, and shoving them in a box in the back of your mind will not help. Sometimes you need to break to heal. Holding yourself together with duck tape and string isn't going to work forever. The best thing you can do is fall apart and then build yourself back up, as long as you actually build yourself back up instead of letting this situation consume the rest of your life. Make sense?"

Carter nodded. He didn't entirely believe her, but he saw what she was saying.

He glanced at Frankie, and he realized that his mother was right, more than even she realized. He was scared to fall apart because what if he could never put himself back together again? But sitting next to him was someone who would stay by his side when he fell apart and help him get back up when he was ready, and he would do the same for her. Every. Single. Time.

* * *

_All reviews are amazing; constructive criticism is appreciated; and flames will be ignored and reported if necessary. Thanks for reading!_


	6. Wish Words Were Like Little Toy Guns

_The chapter title is a line from Little Toy Guns by Carrie Underwood._

_WARNINGS: BULLYING, MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, LANGUAGE_

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my OCs._**

* * *

**Wish Words Were Like Little Toy Guns**

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

**Ms. Sharp's Dance Studio**

**May 26th, 2018**

**3:55 PM**

"Those poor kids…"

Evelyn stopped in her tracks, fingers freezing on the way to stick a piece of strawberry gum in her mouth. She stood there, stuffing the piece of gum in her mouth and pocketing the package of gum in the sweatshirt she'd pulled on over her ballet uniform until class started. She subtly leaned closer, listening to the unmistakable voice of Ms. Sharp around the corner.

"I know. It's horrible," Jennifer, Ms. Sharp's assistant, agreed, voice dripping with sympathy. "Frankie is only nine, and her brother's… twelve, you said?"

Evelyn frowned. She knew Frankie and her brother, Carter, the weirdos who were dating each other. She rarely ever spoke to Frankie except to make a few jabs. Who would blame her? They were siblings, and they were dating each other! She didn't have a problem with people being gay or bi or whatever, but incest was just… ew.

Anyway, why would Ms. Sharp and Jennifer be discussing Frankie and Carter like something terrible had happened to them?

"It's hard to believe people could be so cruel as to take two kids," Jennifer muttered.

Evelyn barely resisted the urge to gasp. Take… as in kidnap? Carter and Frankie had been kidnapped? By who? And why?

"They're such sweet kids," Ms. Sharp said, and her voice sounded softer than Evelyn had ever heard it. She knew the dance teacher had a soft spot for Frankie (whether Frankie knew, Evelyn wasn't sure), which Evelyn could never understand because she was in a relationship with her brother, and that was just disgusting, but since Evelyn wanted to stay in the class, she didn't point it out. "From what Whitney told me, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm glad they made it back safely," Jennifer stated, her voice and the clicking of her shoes against the floor growing further and further away as Mr. Sharp and Jennifer headed down the hallway. "I can't imagine going through an ordeal like that."

Evelyn pressed herself against the wall, the things she had just heard rolling around inside her brain.

Who on earth would kidnap Carter and Frankie, and why? Evelyn couldn't withhold a sharp gasp this time as a thought struck her…

What if Carter and Frankie had been kidnapped because of their relationship? Evelyn thought kidnapping was extreme, but she could understand wanting to rid the world of the disgraceful _thing_ that was incest. She often made little comments about Carter and Frankie's relationship to let them know what she thought about it. What if someone decided to take that mindset further?

Evelyn turned on her heel and bolted back to the main studio room to tell her friends.

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

**Outside Ms. Sharp's Dance Studio**

**May 26th, 2018**

**3:59 PM**

"Frankie, it hasn't even been a week. Maybe we should wait just a few more days-"

"Carter-"

"Or I could at least stay with you-"

"Carter-"

"Just in case you need me-"

"Carter!" His name was not spoken with anger, but it was said in a firm exclamation, and hearing the stern tone in his sister's voice startled Carter enough to stop short in the middle of his sentence.

Frankie sighed, and she took his hands, holding them in hers. They stood in front of Ms. Sharp's dance studio, the entrance standing tall behind Frankie's back, like a mouth ready to swallow her whole, but they both knew that was irrational. It didn't stop the feelings of anxiety or foreboding, though.

"Carter," Frankie repeated, quieter and gentler this time. "I love you so much, but this is something I need to do on my own, and you need to let me. At least for today."

Carter swallowed. He hated it, but he saw where she was coming from. Being around each other was calming, but they weren't stupid enough to try and fool themselves into believing they could be around each other all the time. One, no matter how much they loved each other, being attached at the hip could prove to be too much. Couples require closeness, but they also require space, and it's a delicate balance, one that can be tipped before either even realize it. Two, recovery, healing, and life itself requires the ability to stand on your own, as well as relying on others to catch you when you need them to. Sometimes, you need to take baby steps to learn how to march; sometimes, you need to do small things on your own to learn to start living again. A person cannot be escorted through life. They need to forge their own path. Carter knew this, and he was willing to step back to allow his sister to blaze her own trail, and he would walk alongside her, but that didn't mean he should guide her through her own life.

He could step back and allow her to do this on her own, and when the day was over, he would be waiting for her.

Carter nodded. "Okay. You have those disposable phones Mom got us, right? If you need anything… if your head hurts or you get anxious or if someone's mean to you, call Mom, and we'll be here to pick you up in a heartbeat."

Frankie smiled in what she hoped was a comforting manner, but she wasn't sure who she was trying to comfort: her brother or herself.

"I'll be okay," she assured him, "And if I'm not okay, even for one second, I will call Mom. I promise."

Carter nodded, if a bit shakily. "We'll be here at five to pick you up," he told her, leaning forward to kiss her lips before pulling back a little reluctantly and stepping away to the curb, where he climbed into their mom's car. Her mom waved, and Carter smiled at her before her mom pulled away from the sidewalk and the familiar vehicle disappeared down the street.

Frankie smoothed down her standard pink leotard and her frilly tutu, running her hands over her pink tights and retying her ballet shoes (even though she knew she didn't have to. She'd already tied them and retied them three times in the car) one last time before she straightened and took one last deep breath, inhaling the slightly muggy air of New Orleans… and then, she pushed open the door.

The minute Frankie walked inside, she debated running back out the door again. Everyone was staring at her. It wasn't rare for her to receive a couple of Looks when she walked in the door, looks of disgust, like they smelled something bad, but this was different. These were looks of pity, of discomfort, like nobody was quite sure what to say. Some gave her a glare that could only be described as good riddance, a look she got when she was shoved in the hallway or when someone dumped food all over her or splashed a slushy in her face in an action that you thought only happened on _Glee_, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she was receiving that look now.

Frankie took her place in the front row, already doing calf raises and arm circles to stretch out her muscles before class began, but she wasn't two seconds into her stretches before Evelyn Shapiro leaned into her personal space and whispered something that chilled Frankie to the bone:

"So… why did they do it? Because of your relationship- if you can even call it that- with your brother? I'll admit, it was a little extreme, but I can understand wanting to rid the world of people like you or at least frighten you out of continuing to make this _mistake."_

Frankie's heart immediately began to beat faster. Evelyn didn't say it outright, but Frankie knew what she was talking about: the kidnapping. But how did Evelyn know about it? Her mom said that only Ms. Sharp and Jennifer would know, and Evelyn… Evelyn was a notorious eavesdropper, not to mention gossip. Ms. Sharp and Jennifer would never tell the other students without Frankie's permission, so the only way Evelyn could know was if she overheard Ms. Sharp and Jennifer talking about it.

"Or maybe it was some creep who gets off on incest?" somebody- Frankie thought it was Liliana- murmured.

That almost made Frankie throw up. Her heart was beating faster; sweat was beginning to drip down her face; every breath seemed to rattle the room as she clenched her hands together, as if that would stop her world from shaking.

"I wonder what happened to her brother. Why isn't he here?"

"Maybe he's too scared to be around her, afraid someone else might take them because they're _together."_ The emphasis on the word together made the deeper meaning obvious.

"Or maybe he blames her. After all, the class slut would be sick enough to date her own brother. Maybe he blames her for their kidnapping because she dragged him into the relationship."

"Sounds like something she would do."

"Yeah. Anyone who's enough of a slut to date her own brother deserves to be locked up and to have the key thrown away. That's just sick."

Frankie couldn't breathe. The voices were swimming in her ears, overlapping and colliding in a harsh cacophony of whispers that seemed more like screams, and she wanted to clamp her hands over her ears to turn off all the noise, but she couldn't. She was suffocating under the weight of all these words, like bullets against her skin, and tears wanted to spring to her eyes, but her mind was too muddled to even allow herself to cry.

All of a sudden, a soft touch appeared on her arm, and she slowly opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) to see Molly, who was probably her only friend other than Carter, lightly placing a hand on Frankie's arm to ground her.

Frankie found that she could breathe again, and she nodded in thanks to her friend, still trembling slightly but back to Earth, the panic attack slowly fading, chased away by Molly's kind brown eyes.

"Frankie Hughes is such a-"

Frankie forced herself to shut off her ears, refusing to listen to another word. She could almost feel each word like a knife cutting into her skin or like the bang of a gunshot beside her ear.

Man, she wished words didn't hurt more than physical wounds ever could. She'd take bruises and broken bones over those horrible insults, those terrible labels, those pain-inducing words any day.

Thankfully, the door to the studio room opened, and Ms. Sharp glided in, drawing everyone's attention away from Frankie (thank goodness).

"Hello, class," Ms. Sharp announced from the spot she had taken at the front of the class. "As you know, we have our recital this weekend, and we still have a lot of work to do, so get into position!"

Frankie hurried to do as Ms. Sharp instructed. She could still hear people giggling, hissing rumors and awful speculations, but she resisted the urge to call her mom. She loved Carter and her mother and trusted them to swoop in and take her away from these judgemental stares, from the words that sliced her skin like daggers, but if she didn't stand her ground right here and now, she never would.

She promised Carter she would call if she wasn't okay, even for a second, but with another glance at Molly, who smiled at her reassuringly and glared at Evelyn and anyone else who even looked at Frankie the wrong way, she decided that she was okay, at least a little bit. She was ready for this, ready to face the bullies and the harsh words and take it all in stride. Well... as ready as she would ever be, anyway.

* * *

_Molly will appear again!_

_Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Not much romance, but a lot of awesome Frankie._


	7. I'm Broken And It's Beautiful

_The chapter title is a line from "Broken and Beautiful" by Kelly Clarkson._

_WARNINGS: INCEST, MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, ANXIETY, PTSD, ETC. THE TYPICAL STUFF._

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Benji._**

* * *

**I'm Broken, and It's Beautiful**

* * *

"Frankie, I know it's hard, but please… just give it a try," Carter begged as he stared at his sister, pleadingly, her typical hair ribbons (the ones she had refused to touch since they were kidnapped) held loosely in his hands. "Look, I'll do your hair once with ribbons, and after that, you can choose whether or not to keep using them or throw them out and never see them again."

Carter thought his sister looked beautiful without hair ribbons, but it was the principle of the thing. His sister had always loved doing her hair in ribbons, and Syd had taken that away from her, had taken something that made Frankie Frankie and snatched it away. The ribbons weren't a big deal by themselves, but the fact that Frankie was too scared to wear her ribbons rather than simply choosing to no longer wear them was a _huge_ deal. If Frankie chose not to wear ribbons in her hair, that was her decision, and she would always look beautiful, with or without ribbons, but Carter wanted _Frankie_ to make that choice, not her fear or her trauma.

Frankie licked her lips, teetering on the tips of her toes before rocking back onto her heels as she thought this over. She did this a few times before finally speaking:

"Okay." Her voice was so quiet, Carter could barely hear her, but he did, and he nodded with a small reassuring smile.

Frankie, dressed in silky baby blue pajama bottoms with a matching button up shirt and her black string necklace with the single bead still resting delicately against her neck, sat on the floor of their bedroom, her hair dripping wet from the shower she had just taken, still unruly and tangled from the vicious towel drying.

Carter seated himself behind her, and he slowly began to pull the brush through her brown locks, watching Frankie carefully to make sure it didn't make her too anxious, but on the contrary, it seemed to sooth her. Her eyes were closed, expression peaceful, and strangely, Carter found the ever present anxiety in his chest- the one that dulled and attacked sporadically but never truly left- ebbing away until it was barely a feeling at all. What typically gnawed at him until he felt hollow now faded and loosened its hold on him.

There was something calming about doing Frankie's hair, the way it was so easy and mesmerizing, a task to focus on and distract him from his own anxiety. He watched the way her hair easily blended together as he overlapped strands of hair into a simple braid, and with all of his attention on the task at hand, he forgot to be anxious. It was both wonderful and confusing.

Little did Carter know, Frankie was having a similar feeling. Her mother had once told her that her hair is a woman's crown, and Frankie always believed her, taking great care of her locks. Doing her hair had always calmed her, as had having someone else do her hair, but it was so simple and small that she never imagined it could chase away any of the anxiety and trauma left from their kidnapping. She wasn't sure what it was exactly about having her hair done that soothed her, and if asked, she would never be able to describe it, but nonetheless, she found herself relaxing as her brother softly pulled the brush through her hair before beginning to braid the strands of hair down her back.

Frankie felt a small tug as Carter tied the braid off with one of her ribbons, and she stood, grabbing a mirror from her bedside table and walking into the bathroom. She faced away from the mirror and held the handheld mirror aloft, looking at the reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Her hair was… pretty. Frankie had allowed her hair to grow tangled and knotted over the past few days, and no matter how many times it fell into her face, she could never bring herself to pull it back, even with a hair tie. But Carter had brushed all of the tangles out of her hair as if they had never been there at all before braiding her hair, starting in the center of the back of her head and doing a simple three strand braid until he tied it off with a blue ribbon just past the back of her shoulders.

"Wow… it looks great," Frankie said, almost in awe. The braid was so simple but still neat, and most of the boys (and some of the girls) Frankie knew could barely even put hair into a ponytail without losing the hair tie or the ribbon in the person's hair. Carter, on the other hand, had styled her hair neatly, probably better than she could have done it.

"Do you think you'll keep wearing your ribbons now?" Carter wondered as she placed the hand held mirror down and turned back to him.

Frankie didn't hesitate before nodding. "Only if you keep doing my hair, though, Mr. Stylist," she said, saying the nickname with a joking tone, as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around her brother's neck.

She wasn't entirely joking, though. The ribbons were such a small thing and yet such a great obstacle. They were a reminder of the worst days of her life, and she often felt so silly being afraid of something as small as doing her hair with ribbons. It made her feel so broken. How could she be anything _but_ broken when she couldn't even do her hair without having a breakdown?

But Carter had taken something that gave her anxiety and turned it into something beautiful, and for the first time since they got back, Frankie _felt_ beautiful. She was still broken, just a little bit, but she was beautiful, too, beautiful in all of her brokenness. They both were.

Carter smiled back at her. "I'm sure that can be arranged," he laughed before pulling her in for a kiss.

* * *

_Doing my hair helps with my anxiety, so their coping mechanism is kind of based on my own coping mechanism._

_All reviews are amazing; constructive criticism is appreciated; and all flames will be ignored and reported if necessary. Thanks for reading!_


	8. Swan Lake

_Hello, everyone. This is shorter than usual, I'll admit, but it still turned out okay, so please enjoy the story!_

_WARNINGS: INCEST (WHICH IF YOU'VE READ MY OTHER CARTER/FRANKIE STORIES, YOU'VE PROBABLY ALREADY FIGURED THAT OUT)_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Benji, 2018 or the characters or anything that you recognize. I also don't own San Lake._**

* * *

**Swan Lake**

* * *

"Are you nervous?" Carter asked as he brushed the soft bristles of the make up tool over her face, coloring in her pale, baby soft cheeks with the rose colored blush. He had already applied blue eye shadow to her eyes to match her costume, making the colors of her eyes pop (as their mother put it) by combing mascara into her eyelashes, making them darker and more prominent.

"A little," Frankie admitted as Carter placed the make up brush down and picked up the bright red lip stick.

"Part your lips," he stated, and she did so, allowing him to run the lip stick over her lips, painting them a pretty shade of red. "Now for your hair," he added, and Frankie took that as her cue to spin around, allowing Carter to brush her hair, still damp from her shower, and the water droplets cascaded down her brown locks, sticking in the hair brush and straightening her curls for the time being.

"You don't have to be nervous," Carter told her. "I've seen you practice. You have nothing to be worried about."

"It's just…" Frankie swallowed. "This is my first performance since… Syd and Titus. My dance group… well, the good thing is they've let up with the teasing about us, but if possible, how… awkward they are around me is even worse. The girls still look at me weirdly. The boys don't even talk to me. Even the teacher won't look me in the eye. I don't think any of them really know what to say."

Carter nodded. "I can't blame them. If it hadn't happened to me, I wouldn't know what to say either. I know it's hard to get back on the horse, so to speak, after something like this, but trust me when I say that you are going to kill it out there," he promised her, placing the finishing touches on her hair and gently turning her around.

He lightly wiped some excess lip stick off her bottom lip before leaning forward to pull her into a kiss.

Frankie felt all of her nerves melt away as she kissed her boyfriend, and for the first time all night, she felt like she could breathe, and she gave a little sigh of content as they separated after a moment.

Carter reached to the side and handed her a hand held mirror.

"Take a look," he told her with a small smile.

Frankie glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and she allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she stared at her perfectly done make up and her brown hair, which Carter had pinned up in a perfect ballerina bun and sprinkled sparkles over her hair, delivering a dose of hair spray to keep it in place.

"I look… beautiful," she murmured.

Carter reached over and pushed the mirror down, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"You always look beautiful to me," he promised before leaning forward again to press a kiss to her lips.

* * *

The red curtains slowly slid open, blankets of velvet disappearing to allow the stage to come into view.

Smooth but deep music began to play softly- a combination of violins, piano, and other instruments that blended together to weave a lovely melody that bounced off of the walls and reached every ear in the gymnasium, including the ears of Carter Hughes, who sat in the fourth row of chairs, surrounded by an audience of supportive parents, grinning friends, and the occasional crying baby.

A group of kids crept onto the stage, moving in perfect harmony as they twirled onto the stage. Most of them were girls, all wearing outfits of silver with splashes of pink, blue, and green, and the three boys that joined them donned black tights, white shirts, and vests of different colors, ranging from brown to green or a mixture of different colors to illustrate the character they portrayed.

Frankie was the third girl from the left hand of the stage, and her teeth shined like pearls under the stage lights. She looked truly happy to be there, not nervous at all. Sparkles highlighted her hair and painted the skin on her face, mostly around her eyes and dusting the top of her cheeks. She wore a silver outfit with a pink skirt and white tights. Her ballerina bun sat on top of her head, staying in place even as she spun, her ballerina shoes on display as she held her arms out, one in front of her and one behind her, facing away from the stage before twirling back around to face the audience in one fluid movement.

Carter had always told Frankie that she moved like the water when she danced, always flowing and connecting one movement to another, reminding him of a river, one so beautiful and calm but also fast and energetic at the same time.

Frankie's solo came, and Carter leaned forward in anticipation. He knew she would stick it, had seen her do it so many times before, but he always felt a little more excited whenever he saw that smile appear on her face after she succeeded.

One pirouette. Two pirouettes. Three pirouettes. Four pirouettes, and… five pirouettes!

With Frankie's solo came the finale, and Carter stood, applauding loudly, joined by his mother and the entire audience.

The curtains closed, and the show came to an end.

* * *

Carter lightly pushed his way through the crowd to reach Frankie, and she gave a surprised laugh as he lifted her off her feet and spun her around. She had taken her hair out of her ballerina bun and let it hang down her back; Carter smoothed his hand over her brown hair, brushing through the curls, stiff from hair spray and dotted with glitter.

"You were amazing out there," he informed her, handing her a bouquet of red roses that he had bought with his own money just for the occasion. "You really belong out there."

Frankie chuckled. "Don't you know by now, Carter? I'll always belong right here with you."

Then she pulled him in for a kiss.

* * *

_All reviews are amazing; constructive criticism is appreciated; and all flames will be ignored and reported if necessary. Be kind and accepting, and if incest really bothers you, just hit the back button. Remember: it takes less time to hit the back button than it does to type out a hateful comment._

_Thanks__ for reading, and please leave a review. Also, keep in mind, I am not a ballerina (or any kind of dancer, for that matter), nor have I ever seen Swan Lake (unless you count the Barbie version), so sorry if it's not an accurate portrayal._


	9. Angels, Keep On Fighting

_The chapter title is a line from Inner Demons by Julia Brennan._

_WARNINGS: INCEST, MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, PTSD (INCLUDING A FLASHBACK AND A PANIC ATTACK)_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Benji, 2018 or the characters. I only own my OCs._**

* * *

It was the little things, Frankie found, that triggered the flashbacks. Seeing a rope or the smell of dirt or even seeing a gun on television or a toy gun in the story. Even the cold sometimes caused an anxiety attack. Yes. The cold.

The anxiety didn't strike everyday, but when it did, it struck hard and suddenly and sometimes at the worst possible times.

Like at her dance class! Her dance class knew what had happened to her and Carter, and either they spoke to her too much or wouldn't look at her at all. Before the kidnapping incident, none of them (except for one girl named Molly) were her friends because she was in a relationship with her brother, but after her and Carter were kidnapped, her dance class fell into two categories: either they avoided her like she was a disease or they tried to be her friend, as if becoming pals with the traumatized kid was cool or something.

She ignored it, for the most part. Carter tagged along to her after school dance class almost every time she had it, so having her boyfriend there was definitely a comfort to Frankie.

"All right, class," her dance instructed, Ms. Sharp, said as the girls and boys got into position, and she took her place at the front of the room. "You all did wonderful on the latest recital, so today, I decided we could have a free day with some fun music, and I'll teach you an easy dance so we can just… let loose and have fun today. But I still want to see effort and energy!"

Ms. Sharp went over to the music player and inserted a CD, pressing a few buttons while the class chatted amongst themselves until the music started.

When the music began, Frankie was sure her heart stopped.

On her Good Days, Frankie remembered almost nothing about what happened during those days they had been kidnapped. It was almost a blur, like the memories were stored in a box in the back of her mind and locked with the strongest steel in the world. She knew it wasn't healthy to ignore the memories like that and push them to the side, but she would be lying if she said it wasn't a heck of a lot easier.

However, on her Bad Days, it was like all of the memories came flooding back, and even the smallest details became so vivid, details she would never think about but had somehow registered in her mind.

One of these details was the music Syd had played at the warehouse. It had been quiet and insignificant; she had been so terrified that she had barely noticed it as he played the music while going through the stuff he'd stolen from Mr. King's shop… but when Ms. Sharp played the same music, Frankie recalled the music like it was permanently ingrained in her memory.

Suddenly, she wasn't in the dance studio. She was back in the warehouse.

The rope was rough against her delicate wrists, causing purple and black bruises to blossom across her skin. The support beam was digging painfully into her back, and the coarse fabric of the blanket helped with the cold, but in her terror, she could feel every fiber scratching against her legs like a thousand tiny needles. She couldn't feel Carter next to her anymore, and she was hyperventilating, and Syd was still humming along to that awful music, and where was Carter where was Carter _where was Carter?!_

"-ankie! Frankie!"

Frankie came back to the here and now as Carter called her name, and she blinked (were her eyes really still open? She didn't know much about PTSD until she had it, but she had always thought you would close your eyes during a flashback), sluggishly, as she clawed her way back to the present to see her brother staring at her in concern and her dance group crowded into the corner, watching her intently, clearly having been ordered by Ms. Sharp to give her some space.

She was sitting, and judging by Carter's hold on her hands, he had guided her to sit down, and she couldn't blame him. She felt like she might pass out, and she'd rather pass out while she was sitting than when she was standing.

"Hey," Carter said, kindly, not letting go of her hands as he smiled softly at her. "Welcome back."

Frankie swallowed, but she didn't trust herself to speak yet, so she simply nodded.

"Is she okay?" Ms. Sharp asked Carter, quietly, bending down to his height. Ms. Sharp didn't care about their relationship. She was an all business sort of woman, so if Frankie worked hard and listened to her, she wouldn't have cared if Frankie dated a monkey.

Carter nodded. "She will be, but I better take her home. Thank you, Ms. Sharp."

When Frankie stood, she was surprised her legs held her weight. She felt so weak and out of it that she was sure they would give out, but they held as Carter led her out of the dance studio and held her tightly to his side (while still giving her enough room to pull away if she wanted to, but that was the last thing she wanted) as they walked home.

Their mom was still at work, but Benji barked in greeting, and sensing His Girl's distress, he immediately jumped onto her lap when she sat on the couch, and he allowed her to rake her fingers through his fur to calm herself.

"Okay, Frankie," Carter said, almost a whisper. "You're so close, lovely. Tell me five things you see."

Frankie took a deep breath, glancing around the living room. "You… Benji… the fireplace… the couch… the pictures on the mantle?" the last bit came out as more of a question, but Carter only smiled.

"Good. Now, four things you know."

"Um… valleys is spelled v-a-l-l-e-y-s, not v-a-l-l-i-e-s. You…" Frankie fiddled with her necklace, as she always did when she was anxious. "You gave me this necklace last year for my birthday… two times five is ten... and… I love you? Does that count?"

Carter nodded. "Yes. Now… three things you feel."

"My clothes, Benji's fur, and your hand," she said, clenching Carter's hand harder, as if to prove her point… or maybe just to remind herself that he was here, and he wouldn't leave her. He would never leave her.

"Okay, two things you hear."

"You and… my heart?" It was true. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, but she could tell it wasn't nearly as fast as it had been only moments before.

"And one thing you smell."

She smiled with a snicker. "The only thing I smell is the fact that Benji needs a bath."

Carter grinned, widely. "There's my Frankie."

"Thanks," Frankie said to Carter as she engulfed him in a hug. "I really thought I had lost myself there for a minute."

Carter shook his head. "Not on my watch, Lovely."

"I love you, Darling," Frankie responded. "You're my Angel."

"And you're mine," Carter whispered before they pulled apart, only to unite once again in a kiss.

* * *

_All reviews are amazing; constructive criticism is appreciated; and all flames will be ignored and reported if necessary. Thank you for reading!_


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